


The Wrong Stan

by detectivejigsaw



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, And completing the Zodiac, And it is frightening, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Dipper is stressed out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ford gets a reality check, Gen, Gideon gets so much karma, Guilty Ford Pines, Lots of drama, Mabel Land, Mabel is angry, Pines family actually making smart decisions once in a while, Protective Dipper Pines, Protective Ford Pines, Protective Stan Pines, Quantum Destabilizer is a no-sell, The poor kid needs a break, Weirdmageddon, physical/psychological torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 49,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivejigsaw/pseuds/detectivejigsaw
Summary: Thanks to one of Bill's minions, Ford is not the one who gets captured during Weirdmageddon.  That means he and Dipper have to work together if they want to save their family and end the apocalypse.But hey, no pressure or anything.
Relationships: Candy Chiu & Grenda, Candy Chiu & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez & Stan Pines, Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Wendy Corduroy & Dipper Pines
Comments: 943
Kudos: 354





	1. Dipper's Ultimatum

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, people. Have a new terrifying story.

Ford’s worst nightmare had come true.

Weirdmageddon had been unleashed on the world, and all his efforts hadn’t been enough to stop it from happening.

His only hope now was to somehow, perhaps, use the quantum destabilizer to send Bill back through the rift from whence he had come.

He’d been preparing for something like this for over half his lifespan: either to defeat Bill, or die trying. And now, with the sky turned red and a swarm of giggling fiends converging on Gravity Falls, it looked like all that training and preparation were finally going to pay off.

Ford’s heart trembled at the thought, but thanks to years of training and practice, his hands stayed steady as they lifted the gun, raised it against his shoulder.

“We’re only gonna have one chance to take this shot,” he told Dipper, and hoped that didn’t sound too discouraging. One eye slowly closed, as he used the other to look through the crosshair. He had Bill dead in his sights, gloating to the terrified crowd of people about how he and his “friends” were about to unleash chaos on the world.

“Steady...steady...and-”

“Hey boss!”

Bill twisted around to the side at the call, ruining the shot.

Ford barely managed to stop himself from squeezing the trigger; he suppressed a curse of frustration.

One of the triangle’s minions, a blue-green figure with a big keyhole in the center of his forehead, was floating up from the forest and practically running on air in his excitement. Something small and dark was clenched in one of his fists; something that was squirming and struggling.

“Look what I caught!” the minion yelled as he reached Bill’s side. He lifted his fist-

-and Ford’s blood ran cold.

“It’s your old buddy Stanford! I caught him running around in the woods!”

“Lemme go, ya big blue freak!” the person clasped in his fist yelled, squirming even more fervently and (it was hard to tell from this distance, but knowing who it was Ford wouldn’t be surprised) actually trying to bite the demon hand.

Bill stared at his minion for a long moment. Then, putting a fist on his hip, he asked in a slow voice, “Keyhole, do you remember how ta count?”

Keyhole (that was seriously his name?) blinked. “Uh…”

“How many fingers does Stanford Pines have? Think carefully.”

“...I’m getting the feeling I did something wrong here-”

“SIX, you idiot! Stanford Pines has SIX fingers! This guy that you caught has FIVE!” Bill waved his hand, and Stanley, surrounded by a sudden angry red light, was lifted into the air and his arms spread wide. “This is the OTHER Pines twin!”

* * *

Ford knew he should shoot now, while Bill’s attention was fully occupied. It was the perfect time, right?

Except...Stan was so close to him, and so high off the ground, and there was a chance that the blast might hit him no matter how careful Ford was-

Reluctantly he lowered the gun.

He turned towards Dipper while his mind raced to come up with a new plan-

-except that Dipper was gone.

Ford whipped his head around frantically; at last he peered through the trapdoor they’d used to reach the top of the bell tower, just in time to see his nephew’s hat moving rapidly down the stairs.

“Dipper!”

Ford dropped the gun without a second thought and half-jumped, half-sprinted after him.

He caught up to the boy just as he reached the door of the tower, and grabbed him by the shoulder, dragging him back.

“Let go!” Dipper twisted in his grasp. “We gotta go save Grunkle Stan!”

“We can’t do anything for him right now! We have to focus on-”

Dipper froze, before he suddenly wrenched himself free, and rounded on him, eyes blazing.

“What is  _ WRONG _ with you?!”

Ford started to open his mouth in protest, but he wasn’t finished.

“Bill might be about to  _ kill _ him, don’t you  _ care _ about that?! He might’ve already killed Mabel-!”

He bit his lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly fighting back tears by the skin of his teeth. Then, before Ford could stop him, he threw himself at the door and darted outside.

“No! Dipper, wait-!”

Once again, Ford chased after his nephew-in time to see Bill and his group of degenerates driving away in an unbelievably tacky flying car towards a giant pyramid that was now floating in the sky, while giant eyeballs with bat wings and brightly colored bubbles began swarming the streets.

There was no sign of Stanley, meaning it was more than likely that he’d been taken with them.

That is, if Bill hadn’t decided to just-

Ford’s stomach plummeted.

“No, no no no nononononono-!” Dipper gripped his hair in both hands and tried not to hyperventilate. But after only a moment he drew himself up, and despite how scared and upset he clearly still was, he took a few deep breaths, and turned to glare at Ford.

“I’m gonna go find Mabel,” he said in a cold voice that sounded far older than his years. “And then we’re gonna rescue Grunkle Stan. With or without your help.”

Ford felt himself hit by several different emotions at once: he was impressed at how quickly his nephew had pulled himself together in the middle of this crisis, astonished that he could be so confident in his ability to do so many seemingly-impossible things, indignant at the unspoken accusation being leveled against him-but also a little sick at the thought of what could be happening to his family at this very moment.

He swallowed down his conflicting feelings, and finally said in a soft voice, “Of course I’ll help.”

Dipper’s chin bobbed up and down in a tiny nod. “Good.”

“For the moment, though, we need to go back inside.” Ford grabbed Dipper again, and pulled him into the safety of the tower just in time to avoid their being seen by one of the eye-bats.


	2. Honesty in the mall

Bill was more than a little disappointed.

He’d wanted to capture  _ Stanford _ , not his washed-up twin that he’d spent way too much time whining about in the back of his head when Bill was his “assistant.”

He’d wanted to have the gullible little nerd back in his clutches at last, so he could gloat over how it was all thanks to him that this world was his for the taking. He’d wanted to offer Stanford the chance to join him-which he’d most likely self-righteously refuse, meaning that he’d just turn him into gold or something (at least until some point in the future when he’d be bored enough to want some more fun with his old toy). He’d wanted to achieve  _ final victory _ .

Instead, he had Stanley Pines, the man whose mindscape was a dull gray forest with a broken swing set in the yard.

Pathetic.

With a small grumble of disappointment Bill decided to make the most of what he had: he turned Stanley around so he was facing him, and said, “Hey Goldfish, I got a riddle for ya! Why did the old man do this?”

He held up his arms on either side of him with the fingers curled.

Much to his disappointment, this old man didn’t bite. He just folded his arms and glowered at him silently.

Bill did a long, drawn-out sigh. “Geez, you are just no fun at all, you know that?” A wave of his hand forced Stanley’s arms into the correct position, before he zapped him into gold. “So I could have a new backscratcher!”

His henchmaniacs naturally thought it was hilarious, so Bill took the joke and ran with it; he grabbed the new statue and began scratching a spot on his back that was admittedly pretty itchy. “Heh, not nearly as nice as it’d be if he had a couple extra scratching digits, but still nothing to sneeze at, am I right folks? C’mon, let’s get this party started!”

He put together a Fearamid with a wave of his hand, followed by a hot new car so he and his buddies could get there in  _ style _ .

“Oh, by the way-” he added as they climbed in, “whoever manages ta bring me the real Stanford Pines,  _ alive _ , gets dibs on the rest of the solar system when we’re done having our fun here!”

This was met by a chorus of overjoyed howling and cackling.

“Except you, Keyhole. You lost your chance for that.”

“ _ Man _ ,” the blue-green demon whined. He pouted glumly in the back seat.

* * *

Dipper wasn’t speaking to Ford.

He’d remained quiet while they retrieved the quantum destabilizer, and while they made their way through the streets of Gravity Falls, barely avoiding the eye-bats which kept turning people to stone, as well as the giant colorful bubbles, which Ford suspected were some kind of madness generators, since he saw one man who got briefly caught in one start screaming and tear his shirt off. And even now, as they continued to navigate the streets in case there was any chance Mabel had wound up here, Dipper remained in a cold, stony silence.

At first Ford told himself it was probably for the best; they needed to focus on their goals (find Mabel, avoid getting caught), it was better if they weren’t distracted by conversation. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t spent long periods of quiet in the multiverse.

~~ Except for most of those, he’d been alone. ~~

He told himself that it didn’t hurt.

At least the boy was having minimal trouble keeping up with him; for all the time he spent claiming to have weak noodley legs, his stubborn tenacity was more than enough to make up for whatever deficiencies his youth and lack of muscle might be causing.

Eventually, though, Ford saw a place that seemed like a promising shelter: a large shopping center with a sign reading “Gravity Malls.”

“Dipper, we should probably-”

Dipper was already making his way towards it.

Ford sighed, and hurried after him, providing cover (not with the quantum destabilizer, though; it had only one shot, and he was saving it for Bill).

The automatic doors were no longer functioning; Ford just wrenched them open enough for both of them to climb through. Just in the nick of time, as no sooner were they inside than a horrifying, sweaty, one-armed monstrosity came surging down the road and bellowing for someone to climb into his mouth.

Ford paused to grimace in distaste, and then they wandered cautiously into the mall.

Aside from a few spots of debris where some monsters appeared to have already broken in, the structure was still surprisingly sound. Ford didn’t know if Mabel would be here, but he was willing to bet that they would find at least some refugees.

Instead, as they rounded a corner they found another eye-bat.

Fortunately it was facing the opposite direction as it flapped down the corridor, but it almost gave Ford that heart attack Bill had said he was going to die of at ninety-two.

In one swift motion he grabbed his nephew and ducked into the nearest doorway, just in case it decided to come back this way. Dipper let out a muffled yelp, but instantly seemed to understand the situation enough to quiet on his own. Before Ford could be too proud of him, though, he wrenched himself free of Ford’s grip and moved to the other side of the doorway.

It was jarring, experiencing this complete one-eighty from this afternoon. Or even right when Weirdmageddon started, and Dipper had promised to follow him “to the ends of the earth.” Now he wouldn’t even look at him.

Without meaning to, he opened his mouth and said softly, “If you’d gone running out there, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Dipper’s eyes darted towards him briefly; his scowl deepened.

“Bill would only have captured you too, or-or done something far worse,” Ford insisted. Just imagining it made his mouth go dry, and he had to swallow before speaking further. “There’s sometimes a difference between being heroic and being foolish, and it wouldn’t have done Stanley any good for you to get yourself killed trying to save him.”

Dipper clenched his jaw, before whispering, “At least I was willing to do something. Anything was better than just standing by and letting it happen.”

Before Ford could argue the point further, his ears picked up a sound from further down the corridor.

A soft rumble, like a garage door opening, followed by footsteps, coming in their direction.

Ford’s head jerked up, and all of his senses went on alert.

“Stay back,” he ordered, as he locked and loaded his weapon. To his relief, even if he was still angry with him Dipper nodded, staring with wide eyes as a shadow began to creep into view.

When the form, whatever it was, was only about a foot away, Ford leaped out of hiding, pointing his weapon at-

A redheaded young woman who looked somewhat familiar but he was having trouble placing her.

At least until Dipper peeked around him and cried, in a voice filled with surprise and relief, “Wendy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Ford, you're not one to talk, considering how often you throw yourself into danger without much of a plan beyond "beat the snot out of this thing."  
> But it's usually easier to see the mote in someone else's eye than the beam in yours, I guess.


	3. Falling apart in the mall

Somewhat to his shame, Dipper hadn’t even thought about Wendy when the sky turned red; his concern had all revolved around finding his sister and his grunkle.

But now his knees suddenly went weak with relief at the realization that his friend was here, and looked more or less unhurt (not surprising, since this was  _ Wendy _ we’re talking about, he had yet to see something that could cause her any real harm). She had stripped down to just her undershirt and jeans, with her normal green flannel tied around her waist (except one sleeve which had been made into a makeshift headband), and a dark stripe of paint was under each of her eyes. He had to admit, it was a pretty awesome look.

Wendy lowered the crossbow she was holding, and her own expression looked equally relieved. “Dipper! Stan Two! You guys are okay!”

“Is Mabel with you?” Dipper blurted. If there was anyone who might have been able to get his sister to safety, it would be her.

Wendy’s face fell. “No, I haven’t seen her. I thought she’d be with you.”

Dipper’s hopes plummeted. And then, much to his shame, his vision started to go a little blurry.

A few seconds later he felt warm hands on his shoulders, before he was pulled in briefly against a thin shoulder.

“Hey, ssh, it’s okay. We’ll find her.” Wendy pushed him back. “But right now we gotta get out of the open; c’mon.”

She led the way to the former  _ Edgy on Purpose _ kiosk, and the three of them quickly went inside.

It wasn’t exactly what you’d call cozy, but at least there was a fire burning in a trashcan, and there were no monsters or places for them to break in, and for the first time since the sky turned red Dipper felt able to breathe calmly. He sank down onto a pile of junk, and rubbed a tired hand over his face.

Over to his left, Ford finally spoke, addressing Wendy.

“Your survival skills are very admirable.”

“Yeah, Dad had me and my brothers do apocalypse training instead of Christmas.” She smirked. A few seconds later, though, it faded. “...I wish I knew where they were, so-so we could practice what we learned for group survival skills.”

Ford shifted uncomfortably. At last, though, he offered, “...I’m sure he’s fine. From what I remember of Mr. Corduroy, he has a knack for getting out of difficult situations.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “You know my dad?”

“Yes, actually. He helped construct my house.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I knew that, I just still think of it as the other Mr. Pines’s house.”

Ford frowned a little, but didn’t respond.

Wendy looked over at Dipper with a frown of her own. “Speak of the devil, where  _ is _ Mr. Pines?”

All the composure Dipper had managed to regain immediately crumpled. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking and heaving.

He vaguely felt a warm pressure wrapping around his shoulders, but he was too busy falling apart to get much comfort out of it.

After a minute, he whispered hoarsely, without looking up, “Bill caught him. He-I didn’t see what he did, I don’t know if he’s okay, I don’t even know if he’s still a-alive-or if  _ Mabel’s  _ alive-”

His words dissolved into unintelligibility.

* * *

Even when he finally calmed down, Dipper continued hiding his face; this time, though, it was from a sudden rush of shame.

He’d just had a meltdown in front of two of the people he’d always wanted the most desperately to impress, like a stupid little kid. He’d always been so proud of his ability to handle whatever crisis this town threw at him, no matter how scary, but here he was, acting so...pathetic.

He curled further in on himself, in the somewhat futile hope that would be enough to make him disappear. Instead, the arm around him tightened, and Wendy asked, in a far more soothing voice than he’d ever heard her use, “You okay now?”

He shook his head without meaning to.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be. This whole situation sucks.” She gave him a small squeeze. “Just...try to breathe for a little bit.”

Despite himself, Dipper leaned against her as he felt the last few shudders die away. He rubbed his eyes on his wrist, and finally lifted his head again.

Ford was standing close by, and...for once, he didn’t look like the epitome of cool composure or nerdy excitement.

In fact, he was wearing an expression Dipper had never seen on his face before; he looked...pained. His hand twitched, like he wanted to place it on Dipper’s shoulder, but it quickly retracted. Most likely he understood that right now, his touch would not be welcome.

Dipper looked down, and then turned his head back to Wendy. “...Sorry.”

“Dude, it’s fine.” She rubbed his back. “Don’t sweat it. Let’s just come up with a plan to save Stan and Mabel and then kick this dumb triangle’s butt, okay?”

Dipper nodded, and lifted his fist; she tapped hers against it, and gave him an encouraging smile.

“If we can get close enough to Bill, I can take care of that last part,” Ford said aloud. He pulled the quantum destabilizer from his back. “This will get rid of him for good.”

Wendy’s eyes grew to practically the size of dinner plates. “I have no idea what kind of gun that is, but I suddenly want to fire it more than anything in the world.”

Ford quickly took a step back. “Unfortunately, that is not possible at this time. So please stop looking at it like that.”

Wendy groaned in disappointment. “La-ame.”

“I need it for-!” He sighed, and his lecture mode dissolved as easily as it had come. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you have any electronics equipment on hand? I think searching for Mabel will be easier if I can cobble together a few surveillance devices.”

Wendy shook her head. “There’s an electronics store across from us, though.”

He nodded decisively. “Right. I’ll be back shortly.” He slung the quantum destabilizer across his back again, and headed for the grating. Just before he opened it he whirled around and gave them a stern look.

“Both of you  _ stay here _ . It’s not safe for us to split up right now.”

“Uh, technically you’re the one splitting from us,” Wendy felt obligated to point out.

Ford made an annoyed grunting noise, before he visibly decided not to dignify that with a response; he just lifted the grating and slipped out into the main body of the mall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure Dipper must have had at least one meltdown when Weirdmageddon started; considering the fact that he was completely alone in a raging hellscape and had just watched his beloved uncle get turned into a golden statue, I would be surprised if he didn't. Or if not then, I'd be surprised if he didn't have one after Weirdmageddon was over. That kind of strain is too much for anyone, much less a twelve-year-old.
> 
> On the bright side, here he doesn't have to have one all alone, right?


	4. Ford is nearly driven batty.  Eye-batty.

For a few minutes the two kids just sat in silence, watching the fire crackling. Wendy produced a few boxes of saltine crackers and fruit snacks that she’d managed to swipe from a convenience store (not the Dusk 2 Dawn, for obvious reasons), and some water bottles, and shared her rations with Dipper; he had to admit that getting something to eat made him feel a little better.

“We were all in the cemetery when it happened,” Wendy said at last, tossing her empty fruit snack bag into the fire. “The flying eyeballs got everyone but me.” Her jaw quivered for a second, and her hands clenched into bony fists, before she took a few deep breaths and relaxed. “Robbie would’ve gotten away too, but he just  _ had  _ to stop and take a selfie.” She rolled her eyes.

Dipper laughed a little, but he couldn’t work up the energy to get too much satisfaction out of his former rival’s fate. He sighed. “I-I ended up getting in a fight with Mabel right beforehand. Great Uncle Ford had asked me to stay here and become his apprentice, even after the summer was over, and...and at the time it sounded like my dream come true, so I accepted.” He wasn’t sure if it was just the current disaster, or how much Mabel had hated the idea of him leaving her, or even the fact that Ford was apparently willing to abandon his family at the drop of a hat, but just bringing up the apprenticeship created a bad taste in his mouth. Or maybe it was the lemon fruit snack he was still chewing on, since they were his least favorite flavor. “But...I’m beginning to think I didn’t take enough time to think about it. It’s an incredible opportunity...but it would mean not going home, and growing up without Mabel.” Then, with a hint of realization in his tone, “Assuming my parents would even  _ let  _ me stay here.”

All Wendy managed to say was a quiet, “Whoa,  _ dude _ .”

Dipper nodded, and tossed the empty fruit snacks wrapper into the fire. “Mabel was really upset about the idea of me leaving her, and ran off. And I don’t-” he swallowed a fresh lump in his throat- “I don’t want the last words we ever spoke to each other to be fighting about whether we’d grow up together.”

_ Like Stan and Ford _ , he couldn’t help thinking.

Wendy looked like she was thinking of something she could say to comfort him-but then she lifted her head sharply. “Do you hear that?”

Outside the door they heard the sounds of a weapon being fired.

* * *

Ford could feel the shortest, least-floofy hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he crept across the main part of the mall towards the electronics kiosk.

It was a familiar sensation from many fight-or-flight situations in the multiverse, when he was being watched by unseen eyes, or hunted by unseen predators or bounty hunters. Often all three at once.

It made him stick to the shadows as much as possible, and keep his finger tightly on the trigger of his weapon, any second expecting some new eldritch horror to leap out and require him to blast it out of existence.

Much to his relief, though, he was able to reach the correct store (at least he assumed it was the right one, since there was a sign overhead reading “Spark ‘N Save”) uninterrupted. It was simple enough to slip inside, and start looking around at what supplies were available.

Unfortunately, most of the materials were pretty primitive compared to what he’d had available in the multiverse, but he was able to grab some things he thought he could cannibalize. He filled his pockets with whatever smaller electronics would fit, grabbed a couple of unusually flat computers (which reminded him with a pang of Fiddleford’s old briefcase-shaped one), and then slipped out.

And nearly stepped right into the red beam of light emitting from an eye-bat.

Too late, Ford tried to step back out of view; he was forced to duck and roll to the side in time to avoid being turned to stone, and a second later he was firing his gun at the creature. It dodged the blast, and lunged towards him again, but this time Ford quickly snatched up one of the computers and threw it in front of the beam as he got to his feet and jumped aside again.

A chunk of stone fell to the floor, creating a sizable hole; Ford sent off a round of shots at the eye-bat as quickly as he could while it was still distracted, but it managed to evade them without even getting its wings singed. All Ford could do was dodge behind the large cart in the middle of the room (which had “Meat Cute” written on it; presumably it had been some kind of food establishment), and consider his options at lightning speed while firing around the side of it.

Obviously, he couldn’t go back to the hideout until after this creature was defeated or successfully driven away; that would just lead it right to where the children were, and then they would all be done for. So he would simply have to lure the eye-bat into a place where it wouldn’t be able to dodge his gun, and then-

A red light appeared behind him, as another eye-bat came flying out of one of the other branches of the mall.

Ford swore in Klatchian before doing another roll (one which he really felt in his joints; ow, clearly he wasn’t as young as he used to be), and fired back and forth in a wild attempt to keep both creatures at bay.

But clearly, they were intelligent enough to realize that they outnumbered him, and that they were capable of cornering him. Just as they were doing now, as they swooped in from either side-

“OH NO YOU DON’T!”

A red blur grabbed onto one of the eye-bats by the wings, yanking it back.

At the same time, a much smaller figure jumped onto the other one, and pulled on it as hard as he could with his weak noodle arms.

In a second the eyebats were twisted around until they were facing each other-and in another, two lifeless stone statues fell to the ground.

Dipper took a few seconds to catch his breath, before he rushed to Ford’s side.

“Great Uncle Ford? Are-are you okay?” His eyes looked him up and down anxiously as the old man got to his feet.

Ford snatched up his gun from where he’d dropped it, and gave his nephew a scolding look. “I  _ told  _ you two to stay put!”

Wendy rolled her eyes and snorted. “You’re welcome for saving your butt.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and began striding back to  _ Edgy on Purpose _ .

_...She has spent far too much time working for Stanley. _

Ford straightened his trenchcoat, and then checked over Dipper; the boy was unhurt aside from some minor bruises and scrapes, and had once again shown admirable courage and resourcefulness in a difficult situation...and he had saved Ford’s life for the second time that day, despite being angry with him. So as he went to re-salvage the supplies he’d gathered before the eye-bat attack, he swallowed enough of his pride to say softly, “...Thank you, Dipper.”

Dipper helped him pick them up; all he said was, “Wendy’s the one who came up with the idea.” They returned to their hiding place in silence, and Ford quickly got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...At least he's trying. Still got some kinks in the system to work out.


	5. Gideon is a no-sell

**_Date: ????_ **

**_Day and night are no longer really a thing thanks to Weirdmageddon, but if time was still applicable to our situation I think we’d have been here for at least one or two days. I’ve been hungry six times, and eaten for three of them, so I guess that counts._ **

**_Great Uncle Ford has done even less eating, unless Wendy or I shove food in his hand and make him put it in his mouth; otherwise he has spent all his time making these little satellites out of various appliances, and then sent them out to find Mabel, using one of the laptops as a screen so he can see what they see. He’s barely taken his eyes off of it except for when we make him sleep._ **

~~**_The way he’s pushing himself is making me a little less mad at him, and actually now I feel kind of guilty for_ ** ~~

~~**_Shoot, I forgot he’ll probably be able to read this. Why am I still writing?!_ ** ~~

Dipper nearly stabbed his pen through the page crossing out the incriminating sentences. He glanced guiltily at Ford; to his relief, he was still watching the screen.

Dipper wished they could go back to the Mystery Shack, where they could be better protected from all the weirdness; but there were too many creatures who might recognize Ford and capture him for Bill, so it was too dangerous to risk it until they’d found Mabel.

Wendy occasionally went out to grab supplies for them, revelling in finally getting to engage in delinquent behavior like breaking and entering without any foreseeable consequences. Dipper offered to go with her, but Ford vetoed the idea so emphatically that he was afraid to disobey him. So for the most part he just sat and reread his uncle’s journals, or paced, or watched the series of surveillance videos with him for any sign of Mabel, all in near-complete silence, since the only alternative was talking about things that neither of them was comfortable saying aloud.

* * *

Dipper set aside the journal, and went to peer over Ford’s shoulder.

He’d created three satellites, each of which would orbit a different part of town or the woods for a few minutes, before moving on to another quadrant (never too close to the Fearamid, though; there was too risky). Several times each of them had nearly been eaten or destroyed by something, so just in case that happened Ford had started work on another set. For now, though, there were still three video feeds playing on the laptop screen in various places in town.

Dipper kept his eyes peeled for any sign of fluffy brown curls, or brightly colored wool; even flashes of metal attracted his attention, because they could be Mabel’s braces flashing in the light.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Ford finally spoke, for the first time in ages: “He probably hasn’t killed them.”

After a second, Dipper asked hesitantly, “...How do you know?”

“I don’t.” Ford’s shoulders hunched slightly. “But-I know how Bill thinks. If he had...he most likely would have proclaimed it already. Dangled their corpses from the Fearamid or something, just to draw me out.”

_...Oh that’s okay, it’s not like I was planning to sleep any time soon anyway._

Dipper actually had to fight the urge to be sick for a second, squeezing his eyes shut. He barely registered a large, steadying hand on his shoulder, and didn’t resist its touch. When he opened his eyes again, Ford quickly released him.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-I should have put that more diplomatically. What I’m trying to say is, we shouldn’t give up just yet-”

“Great Uncle Ford!”

Ford startled at the interruption, but then he quickly turned his head to see what Dipper was gaping at on the screen.

Namely that one of the satellites had maneuvered around a billboard, and now was focused on something off towards the east.

Something like a humongous pink bubble, with a chain wrapped around it, and a design on the side that was all too familiar to both of them.

There was a possibility it was just another one of Bill’s tricks...but it was also the only lead they had.

* * *

When Wendy came back from her latest trip, Dipper gave her the good news.

“We think we know where Mabel is! She’s in a giant bubble out in the wasteland!”

She blinked. “Is it weird that that’s not even close to the weirdest sentence I’ve heard this summer?”

“No.” Ford began gathering up his weapons and strapping them on. “We have no time to waste, so hurry up and-”

“Uh, dude, wait a second.” Wendy held up her hands to stop him. “Bill’s probably got a bunch of monsters or whatever looking for you, right?”

“That doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “I’m not going to stay in hiding instead of rescuing my niece-”

“Not what I was saying. I’m saying that if you don’t wanna get caught, maybe you oughta make yourself look a little less…” She looked at him for a second while searching for the right word, “...you.”

...Which was why when they left the kiosk, Ford was no longer in his signature trench coat and slacks; instead he wore a pair of faded jeans, some tennis shoes and a long black hoodie, with the hood up to hide his distinctive hair. The quantum destabilizer had been shrunk down with Dipper’s flashlight, which Wendy had retrieved for him from the Shack, and stowed in the pocket on the front of the hoodie; the other weapons were hidden by how baggy his clothes were now.

“I hate this,” Ford grumbled, glaring down at his new sneakers as if they had personally offended him.

“Hey, it could be a lot worse,” Wendy reassured him with far too much cheerfulness. “I could’ve used some of the goth makeup this place used to sell as part of your disguise.”

The look Ford sent her way would have made a lesser being wilt like a flower. She, however, just snickered at him.

* * *

They realized soon enough, as they made their way through the streets, that the fastest way to get to Mabel’s bubble would most likely be with some wheels. Wendy had been willing to just hotwire one of the cars standing in the street, but Ford pulled her away.

“Someone might need those later, if we manage to put a stop to all this madness. Let’s just go to the junkyard.”

She sighed in disappointment, before brightening. “Ooh, maybe they’ll have a tank there! I’ve always wanted to drive one!”

However, there were no tanks at the junkyard.

Instead there was a gang of thugs.

“Well, well,” one of them boomed as they surrounded them, “looks like we got ourselves a group of ground walkers!”

“Heh heh!” another laughed, “Ground walkers! Ain’t got no wheels!”

“Listen, discount auto warriors!” Wendy snapped, glaring at them defiantly.

“We just wanna make it to that bubble out east!” Dipper chimed in. “We have no quarrel with you!”

Ford began to reach under his hoodie, but he was stopped by a voice booming from one of the cars, where a dark figure loomed over them.

“ **OH, BUT THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG!** **HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE ‘EM!** ”

Reluctantly the three prisoners complied.

“ **Y’ALL FELLERS AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE!** ”

They blinked.

“Y’all?”

“Fellers?”

Ford gritted his teeth. “It’s ‘You aren’t going anywhere!’”

“I don’t think he cares about proper grammar!” Dipper growled. “That’s Gideon!”

The spotlight changed to reveal that the intimidating figure in the shadows was indeed a dwarvish, white-haired boy in the gaudiest rodeo attire they’d ever seen, sitting on the shoulders of a thug with unusually pale eyes. He scowled at Dipper.

“Way ta spoil my dramatic entrance! And it’s _Sheriff_ Gideon ta you!” He shook himself, and lifted his tiny arms into the air. “By the authority of Bill Cipher, I place you three under arrest!”

Then he gave Ford a confused frown. “Who’s your friend?”

Ford made no move to remove his hood; after a second Gideon just shrugged.

“Eh, no matter. Oh hi Wendy, have we formally met?”

The group was shoved forward, while Gideon gloated about how Bill had appointed him Master of the Wastelands, and Keeper of the Bubble.

“...My sweet, precious Mabel’s trapped inside-” he pretended to close his hand around the bubble possessively- “AND I HAVE THE ONLY KEY!” A second later it was pulled out from the inside of his shirt; its rainbow colors reflected in the light. “Wrapped around my-well, I wouldn’t call it a neck exactly, wrapped around this little pocket of fat under my-”

_FZZT-ZZZZAP!_

A blue plasma bolt hit him square in the chest, and he toppled over onto his back lifelessly.

For a second everyone stood frozen in shock. The only thing that moved was the curl of smoke rising from the barrel of Ford’s gun, which he had drawn in one swift motion.

Finally Dipper managed to ask, in a horrified squeak, “Did you just _kill_ Gideon?!” Because as horrible as he was, he was still a kid-

“It was set to stun.” Then Ford pressed a button on the side of the gun, and the blue part turned red. “Now, however, it’s not.”

Suddenly most of the crooks decided that they had never been here, and that they had better back that claim up right now.

Dipper took advantage of their flight enough to climb onto the truck and snatch the key. Much to his surprise, the ghost-eyed henchman made no attempt to stop him, but didn’t run away either.

Ford motioned at him with the barrel of the gun. “I’m not in a lenient mood right now.”

“I know.” As soon as Dipper left Gideon’s side, he scooped the still-stunned boy into his arms. “I was never comfortable with the whole ‘keeping his girlfriend in a bubble’ thing anyway.”

“Mabel is _not_ his girlfriend!” Dipper snapped. “You can’t make someone love you, and he needs to get that through his thick skull!”

“My theory is that a childhood with overly-indulgent parents who he was easily able to rule through fear has warped his views over what a healthy relationship-”

Ford fired a shot over the henchman’s head.

“...I’ll just leave now.”

And he lumbered away, still cradling Gideon like a baby.

* * *

The three of them decided not to question their newly-discovered good luck, and instead chose a car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pines Family: 6.  
> Gideon: 1.


	6. Conman vs. Conman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Some of you are really not gonna like me for this chapter. Just thought I'd warn you.
> 
> All lyrics are property of Randy Newman; please don't sue me.

It HAD been all going according to plan.

Bill was finally free of the Nightmare Realm, ready to spread chaos throughout this dimension. He’d even gotten rid of Time Baby and the Paradox Dorks, giving him control over time itself in addition to space and matter. He’d been a little annoyed about not capturing Stanford, or even Pinetree, who would’ve been a nice consolation prize, but he’d made the most of it and gotten this party started. But now THIS had happened.

Bill had decided to get a head start on taking over the rest of the world before Stanford showed up to try to stop him, and sent his henchmaniacs out to start spreading chaos-and it turned out that even with UNLIMITED POWER at their fingertips, they couldn’t leave this STUPID TOWN!

The demon seethed as he floated around the throne room, while a miniature storm circled over his head. He couldn’t-he  _ wouldn’t _ -let himself get beaten now, not when he had finally achieved his goal of getting into this dimension! He needed-he needed-

He needed to find out where Stanford was hiding.

And it occurred to him that he had the perfect means of finding that out, standing in golden form on the arm of his throne.

* * *

One second Stan was staring into a giant eye while he was enveloped in golden light.

The next second he was standing in a fancy living room.

He tried to take a step forward, but was drawn up short by a glowing blue chain wrapped around his ankle, tethering him to a sofa that, upon closer observation, had a few slit areas here and there that if you looked at them closely enough, kind of resembled eyelids.

_...That’s new. And freaky. _

Stan was kneeling down and searching for the lock on the manacle, while at the same time fishing in his jacket pocket for a bobby pin, when a ring of blue fire appeared in front of him. When it dissipated, it revealed the triangle himself, playing a piano and singing.

_ “You got a friend in me _

_ You got a friend in me! _

_ When the road is up ahead _

_ And you’re miles and miles _

_ From your nice warm bed _

_ You just remember what your old pal said _

_ That you got a friend in me! _

_ You got a friend in me!” _

His tiny black hands danced across the keys with surprising elegance, and for such a psychotic freak he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the music.

Stan watched him for a second, before asking hesitantly as he got to his feet, “...Am I dead?”

Bill’s eye opened. “Far from it, Stanley! You’re in the penthouse suite!” He snapped his fingers, and a martini glass filled with purple liquid appeared in one of Stan’s hands. “Have a drink, kid! Make yourself comfortable!”

Stan glanced at the drink; he got the feeling that whatever it was, he probably didn’t want it in his body. He just tossed it over his shoulder.

“If you’re plannin’ on usin’ me for bait, you’re wasting your time.”

Bill, who had just been taking a drink of his own (through his eyeball? Weird), looked at him over the rim of his glass. “What now?”

“You picked the wrong person, bright-eye. Ford’s never gonna come ta save me.” Without meaning to, Stan shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered bitterly, “He doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead.”

A dark voice in the back of his head whispered that Ford would be more likely to run him down with a steamroller, scrape the remains into a dumpster, and then set the dumpster on fire before  _ ever _ lifting a finger to help him, but there was no need to tell Bill that.

There was a moment of silence as the demon processed this. Then he set aside his drink and slowly levitated into the air.

“Wow. You are  _ way _ more pathetic than I was expecting.”

Stan bristled. “I don’t haveta take criticism from a guy who dresses like the Monopoly Man.”

Bill just cackled. “Look, Stanley, I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here. I didn’t unfreeze you to use you as  _ bait _ , I unfroze you because I need your  _ help _ !”

Stan blinked. “Wait, what?”

The triangle floated to the middle of the room. “I first came here in order to liberate your dimension from the constricting, suffocating rules of logic and proportion that it’s suffered under from far too long. And my buddies and I were making excellent progress, until THIS happened.”

A blue-white light, like a projector, suddenly shone from his eye, and formed itself into a picture. Stan recognized it as a model of town, with some kind of transparent dome on it, and an image of the triangle trying to break out of it.

“Somehow my weirdness is unable to escape the confines of this town! There’s something keeping me in.”

“...And whaddya want me ta do about it?”

Bill rolled his eye. “I don’t want  _ you _ to do anything about it, I want you ta tell me where you think your brother might be hiding, so  _ he _ can tell me what he knows about the barrier!”

Stan was a little disgusted to realize that his first thought was,  _ Figures. No matter who you ask, Ford’s still the important one. _

Before he could spend too much time dwelling on it, though, Bill kept rambling.

“I’m pretty sure he knows howta collapse it, using a spell or a potion or an equation or something. The nerd spent enough time here to have figured it out.”

_ Equation? _

_...Wait a second. _

Without his meaning it to, an image flitted across Stan’s thoughts. Something he’d seen scribbled in one of the margins of Ford’s first journal. It had been nothing he understood, and it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the portal, so he’d just disregarded it. But it had the word ‘barrier’ written next to it in red ink…

“...Wait a minute. Hold. The. Phone.” Bill was suddenly right up in his face; Stan staggered back, and ended up sitting down heavily on the couch. “I know what that expression means. Stanley Pines, are you making my hopes and dreams come true ahead of schedule? Do  _ you _ know how ta get rid of this barrier?”

Stan recovered as quickly as he could. “Pfft, you kidding? I barely made it through high school, and that’s mainly cuz Ford let me copy off him. There’s no way I’m smart enough ta know somethin’ like that.”

Bill folded his arms. “Uh-huh. I think  _ you- _ ” he leaned in again and tapped a finger against Stan’s forehead- “saw something in old Fordsie’s journals. And even if you don’t remember it off the top of your head, your subconscious will have it lying around somewhere. You just gotta let me pop in and take a look.”

Stan gave him a long look. “What’s in it for me?”

“Name your price!” Bill finally backed up out of his personal space. “All the riches your heart desires, power, your own galaxy-heck, you can have a galaxy made entirely outta treasure if ya want!” He raised his hands dramatically, and his eye changed into a picture of a large galaxy that appeared to be composed of gold, jewels and dollar bills. After a few seconds it dissipated. “I mean, really, what have you got ta lose at this point, Stanley? What’s this world, or your brother, ever done for you besides screw you over? You don’t owe them anything, so ya might as well let me have some fun with them!”

* * *

For one long, horrifying moment his words made a lot of sense to Stan.

He sat there uncertainly, mulling over them and how very, very true they were.

“My buddies and I would  _ never  _ throw you out like trash and ignore you for a decade, and only call you when we needed something.” Bill was suddenly sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “You’d be one of the gang, Goldfish. Heck, you’d be our  _ hero _ for letting us have free reign over this universe. Just shake my hand, and let me in.” He extended a hand, which lit itself up with bright blue fire.

And again, the words spoke to a part of Stan’s soul that had been craving them ever since the day he lost everything. He knew it was a bad idea and that this jerk was a lying snake who couldn’t be trusted, but…it would be so easy to just let the world burn.

But then he thought about four innocent faces-five if you counted the pig.

Four kids who deserved better than living in a world that was a raging hellscape.

That was enough to make him shove Bill off his shoulder.

“Nothing doing, triangle.”

At first Bill was only capable of tumbling through the air in shock. When he righted himself, though, his entire form flooded with red.

“Why-” he hissed, sounding like he’d be speaking through his teeth if he had any. Or a mouth. “Why is it-that all you humans-have to be-so-STUPID?!”

A wall cracked at his screech, before splitting right down the middle.

Stan shrugged. “It’s what we’re good at. Also, that bow tie’s really not doin’ it for you. Makes you look like even more of a dork than Ford.”

Bill snarled wordlessly-but a few seconds later he changed from red to yellow again, and from burning rage to a soft, icy calm.

“You know, Stanley, I think you’re wrong. I think Stanford  _ is _ gonna come here. If nothin’ else, because more than anything he wants ta be the hero.”

More blue chains materialized out of nowhere, clamping around Stan’s neck and other ankle, before hoisting him into the air.

“In the meantime, I’m gonna see what’ll make you break. Because either you’re gonna help me find Ford, or one of you will give me that equation, sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”

* * *

Before long, Stan was screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me.  
> If you kill me you'll never learn how the story ends.


	7. Getting there is half the fun

The group of would-be rescuers were experiencing a new setback.

“ _You_ are not driving, young lady.” Ford pushed Wendy away from the driver’s door. “Do you even have a license?”

“Do you even remember how to _drive_?” Wendy shot back, shoving her way back in front of it. “You probably haven’t been in a car for thirty years!”

Ford reddened a little. “That’s immaterial! Besides, I borrowed Stanley’s car earlier this week, and brought it back intact!”

Dipper...decided to refrain from comment on his uncle’s driving techniques. They had both been lucky not to encounter any other cars on the road, let’s just leave it at that.

“Besides, I am the oldest one here, that gives me precedence!”

“That is such bull-”

“GUYS, IT DOESN’T _MATTER_ WHO DRIVES!” Dipper reminded them, at top volume. “We need to focus on getting to Mabel!”

Ford and Wendy both gave him startled stares...and then each took a deep breath.

“You’re right, my boy,” Ford said at last. He stepped away from the door. “Go ahead.”

Wendy looked surprised, but lightly punched him in the arm and smiled.

“Thanks, dude.”

* * *

Surprisingly, the car had plenty of gas, and while it probably needed an oil change it was functioning well enough.

Soon they were speeding out into the wasteland, with Ford in the passenger’s seat and Dipper in the back.

“...Any chance we could go around the weirdness bubbles?” Dipper ventured hesitantly.

“Unfortunately, not in any way that wouldn’t be time-consuming.” Ford grimaced as they came up on a giant green bubble. “Everyone, brace yourselves!”

Wendy stepped on the gas, and they went speeding inside.

There was a flash of light-

* * *

-and when Ford looked down at his hands, to his alarm they were all bone! And he appeared to be wearing some kind of long red robe with a hood on top!

“Aaagh!” Ford whipped his head around to check on Wendy-

Who was now blue, with a pink tuft on top of her head where her hair ought to be, while her face had become oddly horse-shaped. She glanced over at him, and began screaming too.

He barely had time to see that Dipper was now covered in orange fur and was wearing a big green hat with a star on it, before they burst out of the bubble.

Dipper rubbed his face frantically. “That was _horrible_!”

“Don’t dwell on it too long, dude-there’s more coming!” Wendy warned.

The car burst through three more bubbles at top speed, and the little group went through three more metamorphoses-

-Ford found himself with thick golden-brown fur and what felt like wings on his back, while Wendy appeared to be an anthropomorphic fox and Dipper looked like a centaur except with a deer’s body-

-All three of them were suddenly black, with white faces and bright red noses and long, doglike ears-

-Ford and Dipper were suddenly both bald, with blue arrow tattoos on their foreheads, while Wendy’s hair was done into an elaborate braid-

-and finally the car was in an open part of the plain.

* * *

Ford dug his hands through his hair in relief. And then realized that there was an enormous canyon in front of them. The car came to a slow halt about ten feet away from the edge of it.

“...I bet I can jump that,” Wendy finally said.

Ford grabbed her wrist before she could readjust the clutch. “Don’t even think about it.”

She groaned in annoyance. “Okay, then what’s _your_ bright idea for getting us across?”

Ford produced his magnet gun, pointing it out the window towards the chain attached to Mabel’s bubble...and discovered that it was out of range.

He carefully avoided looking at the children. “Just give me a moment to think.”

Ford stepped out of the car, and began pacing.

* * *

Dipper climbed out, and made his way to the edge of the canyon.

He peered over it, in the (probably futile) hope that there would be a rope ladder or something.

Instead, there was just a long drop into darkness, and a few flickers that looked vaguely like something moving down there.

_...Really wish we had Mabel’s grappling hook right about now._

There was the sound of racing footsteps behind him, and suddenly a hand grabbed the collar of his vest and yanked him back.

“I wasn’t going to fall!” he protested, knowing who it was without having to look.

“You don’t know that for certain.” Ford continued towing him towards the car. “I’m not taking any risks with your safety.”

Dipper slipped out of his vest, and stumbled out of reach before Ford could grab him again. “I was looking for a way to get across! You don’t have to start babying me just because we’re in the apocalypse together!”

Ford’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m not trying to baby you!”

“Yes you are! You won’t let me do anything anymore!”

“Uh, guys?” Wendy called.

Neither of them paid attention to her. Or to the clanking noises echoing from the canyon, becoming increasingly loud.

“You had no problem bringing me to an alien crash site where all the aliens were only ‘probably’ dead, but now you act like if I do anything even a little bit dangerous I’m going to get myself killed!”

“ _I’m just trying not to lose the one member of my family I have left-!_ ”

“GUYS!”

They finally registered the enormous shape climbing out of the canyon.

It looked something like a cross between a tyrannosaurus rex and an octopus, with the dinosaur’s head and body, but instead of the tiny arms it had multiple enormous tentacles, which apparently were capable of pulling it up the side of a rock wall.

Ford grabbed for his gun, but a second later one of the tentacles had grabbed him, pinning his arms to his sides, and lifted him into the air.

“NO!”

Dipper tried to grab his uncle, only to get seized by another tentacle.

And in another second Wendy had been snatched up too, and all three of them lifted towards the beast’s horrible, tooth filled mouth-

-which opened, and a wizened old man with giant green glasses stepped out onto its extended tongue.

“You fellers oughta be more careful! There’s all kindsa monsters wanderin’ around these parts, it ain’t safe ta stay out in the open long!”

Dipper couldn’t believe his eyes.

“McGucket?!”

His eyes darted towards Ford-who appeared to be even more dumbfounded.

He managed to squirm one arm free, and pushed his hood back, revealing his face. His jaw flapped a little bit as he looked at his old friend.

“...Fiddleford?!”

McGucket blinked, and after a second appeared to recognize him. He looked similarly shocked.

“Stanford? That you?”

Ford nodded slowly.

“Fiddleford-I-”

After a second Fiddleford’s mouth spread in a wide grin, showing off his gold tooth.

“Well, shucky darn! Ain’t this a small wurld after all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably a good thing that Fiddleford has never joined forces with Entrapta from "She-Ra and the Princesses of Power." Together they would obliviously destroy the world with robots.


	8. Strangers in a strange (Mabel) land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously?  
> Only one person caught all the bubble references.  
> Have you people not seen "Animaniacs" or "Wander over Yonder?"  
> Your parents should be ASHAMED!!!! ASHAMED, I say!!!!

At their request, McGucket went back up the mouth of his robot, and a few seconds later the rest of their supplies (and Dipper’s vest) were snatched in its tentacles and brought up to them. The trio was then placed inside the mouth, and together, somewhat gingerly, they made their way to the back of the throat, where they found an elevator that took them to what was presumably the “brain” area.

When the doors slid open again, it was to reveal a bright, green-lit control room.

Everywhere they looked there were tables covered in buttons, levers, switches and other thingies presumably required for keeping a giant mechanical eldritch abomination up and running. There were two big windows shaped like eyes, and McGucket sitting in a big black swivel chair, tapping frantically away at some of the buttons in front of him like a giant, elaborate typewriter.

It also contained a pair of big, chubby legs wearing familiar cargo shorts sticking out from under one of the tables, and a familiar voice saying, “Dude, I think I almost got it! Before you know it we’ll have that problem with the portside tentacles all cleared up!”

“SOOS!”

There was a thump, a muffled “Ow!” and then the handyman himself slid into view.

“Guys?!”

Wendy and Dipper hurled themselves at him without hesitation; Dipper buried his face in the (slightly smelly and grease-stained, but still wonderfully familiar) question mark T-shirt, and reached as far around his pterodactyl bro as his tiny arms were capable of.

“Guys! Aw geez, I was so worried about you!” Soos squeezed them both as tight as he could, and Dipper couldn’t bring himself to fight it. “I couldn’t find you at the Shack, so I wandered around the forest looking for you for, like, ages, but then I got caught by some of the trees, because they were sentient now and had long sharp teeth made of bark and their branches had turned into arms. They were gonna eat me as some kinda revenge against humanity or something, but then Mr. McGucket saved me with this robot, so I technically owe him a life debt now which I’m tryna pay off by helping him keep this thing running smoothly-MR. PINES!!!!”

Soos extricated himself from under his friends, and lunged to his feet while starting to lift his arms-but then he got a better look at Ford, and deflated.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were Mr. Pines.” He thought for a second. “I mean, technically you are, but you’re not _my_ Mr. Pines. I mean-he’s not mine, but-you know.”

Ford’s hands slipped into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Yes, I understand.”

Soos looked back to his friends worriedly. “Dudes, do you-do you know where Mr. Pines is? He’s not in the Shack either, so I thought for sure that he’d be looking after you guys.”

Even though he’d gotten the worst of it out of his system after it first happened, Dipper felt a lump grow in his throat. He swallowed it down enough to say, “...He got caught by Bill.”

Remembering that time when Mabel had been boss for three days and her poor choice of phrasing had made Soos think that Stan was dead, Dipper expected him to immediately dissolve into a hysterical, blubbering mess.

Instead, Soos froze up-and then quietly sat down on the floor; other than his lip trembling for a second, his expression became very small, and very blank. Somehow, that was so much worse.

“Great Uncle Ford thinks he’s still alive,” Dipper quickly said, squeezing his shoulder. “We’re planning to go rescue him and put a stop to all this after we get Mabel out of that giant pink bubble on the other side of this canyon.”

Soos blinked, nodded numbly.

“Oh. I wondered what that thing was.”

“Soon as we get this finished, we can give you folks a lift over there!” Fiddleford squawked. He had scrambled under the panel Soos was no longer working on, and a few seconds later there were some sparking noises and a small crunch.

“...This is gonna take a little bit.”

Ford went over and knelt at his side. “...Is there anything I can do to help? My mechanical skills have improved somewhat since-well, they’re better than they used to be.”

“Nah, I think me an’ Soos’ve got it jes’ fine!”

“...Soos and I.”

Fiddleford cackled warmly. “You ain’t changed at all, Stanford.”

Ford winced, but didn’t reply.

* * *

Soos recovered from his numbness enough to get back to work helping Fiddleford. As they worked, Fiddleford told their guests that they could go down into the center of the robot to get some food if they wanted; Ford glanced over his shoulder at his charges, and remembered that yes, they were young children who had been living on saltine crackers and fruit snacks for the last day or two. So he quietly shepherded them back to the elevator, and pressed the button that had “Food Court” written on it in the clumsy scrawl of someone who was apparently re-learning how to form letters properly.

His heart sank; yet another person whose life he had inadvertently ruined.

Surprisingly, when they arrived at the food court (which was a room located, appropriately enough, in the stomach area of the robot) they found that Soos and Fiddleford were not the only people onboard: a full group were at a couple of tables that looked like they’d been grabbed from the high school, in the center of the room. Ford didn’t know who they were, but Wendy and Dipper rushed to greet them. There was a trio of redheaded boys that resembled Wendy enough to probably be her brothers, who dogpiled her in a hug; a tall man with his hat pulled over his eyes sitting with his back against the wall, holding a magazine titled _Stoic Monthly_ ; a small Asian girl who he vaguely remembered to be one of Mabel’s friends; and a blonde-haired girl who looked very out of place compared to the others, despite wearing what literally appeared to be a potato sack. When their eyes met for a brief second, she blushed and quickly turned to Dipper.

Ford decided to let the children get caught up, and went to see what the options were for eating. There was a makeshift fridge and some cupboards set up against one wall, and inside he found a collection of food that looked like it had been scavenged from the local grocery stores. Mostly canned things, but there were some apples and oranges in the fridge, next to what looked disturbingly like a charbroiled possum. Ford avoided the possum, but took some fruit and a couple of cans of meat, along with a bottle of fresh water, and brought them back to the tables.

“...pushed me behind a trash can just before the eyebats found her,” the Asian girl was whispering as he came back into earshot. She hugged her knees. “She sacrificed herself to protect me. And that is where Mr. McGucket found me, after they took Grenda away.”

Dipper put a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed it silently.

Ford sat down, and offered his nephew an apple; to his quiet relief, he accepted it with a nod, and then began to eat ravenously. Ford turned to Wendy, and made sure she got some food too, before touching a bite of his own meal.

As he ate, barely tasting any of it, he listened to the conversation going on around him, and registered that aside from the quiet man-who, come to think of it, looked an awful lot like Fiddleford; maybe he was his son?-these were all a bunch of frightened children.

_Thank goodness Fiddleford found them. Otherwise they might have-it would have been very unfortunate._

Ford suddenly didn’t have much of an appetite left. He forced himself to finish his apple regardless, and gave the rest of his canned chili to one of the boys, who ate it without protest.

Eventually there was a rumbling, and everyone braced themselves as the robot began to move.

“He really needs to install a ‘Fasten Seatbelts’ sign in this thing!” another of Wendy’s brothers said as he held onto his chair.

“And maybe some seatbelts!” one of his brothers added.

The furniture all appeared to have been welded to the floor, so at least it wasn’t skidding around, but it was still not the most comfortable experience of their lives. Ford fervently wished he’d thought to bring some rope with him.

Fortunately, though, the experience didn’t last too long; after a few minutes the robot came to a stop, and a loudspeaker on the wall crackled before Soos’s voice came rumbling through.

“All ashore that’s going ashore!”

Ford looked at Dipper and Wendy. “...I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could convince you two to stay here while I go and fetch Mabel myself?”

The identical withering glares sent his way were answer enough.

The Asian girl stood up as they got to their feet. “I am coming with you.”

“That is not-” Ford started to say.

Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “I have already failed to save one of my friends. There is no chance I am staying behind while you are rescuing the other.”

Dipper looked up at him. “Candy’s really smart, Great Uncle Ford. And she’s good at thinking calmly in a crisis.”

_Candy? Who names their child Candy?_

He still had some obvious misgivings about putting yet another child in potential danger, but Ford decided it wasn’t worth arguing with them for the time being. And if push really came to shove, he could always just perform a nerve pinch and put her somewhere safe until it was over. “Very well.”

And he strode towards the elevator, with the little group in his wake.

* * *

Back at the control room, Soos gave McGucket an uncomfortable look as he wiped his hands on a greasy rag.

“Um-I know I owe you my life and all, but I-well, I kinda wanna go help my friends save my other friend, but I understand if you need me-”

“Look, big fella, I keep tellin’ ya I don’t expect ya ta spend the rest of your life servin’ me or whatever.” McGucket put his bony hands on his hips.

“But that’s the code of honor! You saved my life, now I have to work for you until I’ve saved yours, like in the Kevin Costner movie-”

“Just go help ‘em.”

“Yay thank you I’ll be back as soon as I can!” He joined the group as they headed for the mouth of the robot.

Ford muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Not another one,” but then he just sighed and walked onto the tongue ahead of them, allowing himself to be scooped off it by one of the tentacles.

As soon as they were lowered to within reach of the lock, Dipper pushed the key into it and turned it.

“We’re coming for you, Mabel,” he whispered to himself.

A few seconds later they were surrounded by a blinding white light.

...Which quickly turned into a rainbow explosion that they were suddenly falling through.

Soos quickly grabbed onto Dipper, holding him tightly against him.

“If I’m gonna die, I wanna die hugging!” he proclaimed, while curling around him like some kind of giant hamster.

Through the strangulation Dipper managed to see Ford pulling Wendy and Candy against him, and then starting to dig through his hoodie in search of what was probably something to save them from landing on-

-On a surface that made them all gently bounce a couple of times.

“...I was genuinely not expecting this,” Candy said at last.

Wendy tilted her head. “Do you guys hear eighties music?”

“And does the air smell like childlike wonder?” Soos turned and peered through the side of the bouncy castle; the others followed suit, and gazed upon a world that looked like Lisa Frank and a couple of toy shops had crashed into each other, accidentally pulling a yarn store and possibly some radioactive chemicals into the mix. And above it all there hung an enormous billboard, emblazoned with the words, “MABELAND! PERFECTION-BUT BETTER!”

Ford glared, and shielded his eyes against the blinding amount of light. “We need to find Mabel quickly.”

“Agreed.” Dipper frowned. “This is worse than the apocalypse.”

The corner of Ford’s mouth turned up a few inches as they made their way off the bouncy castle onto the street.

“Where do you think she could be?” Wendy asked, passing a group of multicolored penguins. “This whole place is basically her dreamland.”

Dipper pulled a pen out of his vest, and began chewing it nervously. “It would be easier if we had some way to narrow it down, like everyone being gathered in a specific area, or the sound of her voice-”

“Or that she’s coming down the street in a big sparkly car?” Soos asked.

“Yeah, like-MABEL!”

Sure enough, the gaudiest, pinkest car ever to destroy human eyes was slowly driving down the road. Sitting up front were two brightly colored, radical young men, and perched on the back like Miss America, complete with an enormous rainbow tiara and a bouquet of flowers on her lap, waving and smiling at every creature that passed her, was none other than the girl they’d been looking for.

“Mabel! Hey!”

The little group ran out into the road, frantically waving their arms.

“Whoa! There’s people in the road!” one of the radical young men proclaimed. Just in time he managed to slam on the brakes, so that the car came to a stop inches from running into Soos’s legs. It made an annoyingly adorable ‘beep, beep!’ sound.

Mabel lowered the heart-shaped purple sunglasses she was wearing, and then let out a delighted squeal.

“GUYS!”

She jumped right out of the car, running around it towards them.

“I was wondering when you’d finally get here! Now everything is-”

And then, just as suddenly, she skidded to a halt as she looked up at Ford.

For a second she just stood there, frozen.

And then, slowly, her eyebrows drew together, and her face contorted into the most frightening, angry look any of them had ever seen on her face.

“What’s **_HE_** doing here?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I did a good job writing Candy; it's my first time giving her a shot.


	9. Distressed dudes

“...Mabel?”

She didn’t even seem to hear her brother; she was still glaring up at Ford, crushing the bouquet of flowers in one trembling hand.

“ **_You_ ** are not welcome here,” she said icily. “You need to leave.  **_NOW_ ** .”

The bright, eye-piercing light that was filling this world suddenly took on a slight red tint. All the cute animals and brightly colored people stopped in their tracks, and s l o w l y turned their heads in the group’s direction, just like something out of a horror movie. The fact that the vibrant eighties music was still playing at top volume did not help at all.

Ford barely stopped himself from drawing his gun. Instead he slowly knelt to be on his niece’s level.

“I understand that you might be a little upset with me-”

“You’re not listening to me.” Her voice trembled with rage. “Mabeland doesn’t allow jerks who destroy families. This place only allows  _ perfection _ , and never-ending summer!” A few seconds later a purple, heart-shaped cloud appeared over her head, and a rain of sprinkles poured down onto her head; she stuck out her tongue to catch a few bites, without taking her glare off Ford. She swallowed them, and then continued. “You are  _ banished _ , Great Uncle Ford.” She snapped her fingers, and suddenly a pair of giant waffles, with giant muscled arms, began marching towards them. Or at least putting on the appearance of marching, since they had no legs to speak of. They were floating in a very authoritative fashion.

Ford got to his feet, and quickly drew his gun, blasting both of them into pieces. Mabel just clapped her hands, and four more appeared.

“Mabel, we don’t have time for this!” Dipper pleaded. “Weirdmageddon is happening right now, and-”

“And blah blah blah, some kind of crisis is going on that’s got you in a tizzy, right?” Suddenly Mabel’s glare was focused on him. “Well guess what, Dipper? Here in Mabeland, there  _ are _ no crises besides figuring out whether I should have ice cream or chocolate cake for breakfast! Or both, with edible glitter all over them! I got my wish of endless summer and never having to grow up, and I am  _ not _ giving it up! So you better either get used to it, or leave here with him!” She pointed at Ford with the now very-crumpled bouquet...and then looked away. “That’s what you were gonna do anyway,” she whispered bitterly.

Despite himself, Ford flinched before shooting down the newest group of giant sentient waffles. He hadn’t expected...this. Not from the perpetually cheerful girl who had complimented his hands the first time they met, and who didn’t seem to have an unhappy bone in her body. But it was becoming rapidly clear to him that he’d been wrong about that, too.

* * *

Mabel took a deep breath, and then turned her gaze on her three other friends with her familiar bright smile. As she did, the lighting returned to normal, and all the other inhabitants, except for the waffles, resumed their previous activities.

“You guys are welcome to stay here with me, though. You can have anything you want; Mabeland will provide it, sometimes before you even know you want it!”

She clapped her hands, and seconds later they were all cleaned up, torn clothes as good as new and injuries gone. A flying hamburger began hovering next to Soos’s head; after a second’s hesitation he turned and bit into it.

“Whoa, pudding center. Nice!”

Wendy elbowed him in the side. “Soos!”

Soos smiled sheepishly. “Sorry dude. I couldn’t resist.”

Mabel gave an annoyed glance over her shoulder as another soldier disintegrated. She sighed and clapped her hands; another ten appeared. “He’s going to get tired eventually. When he does, he’ll be banished forever and we can get started planning a big party, now that you guys are finally here!”

“Um, Mabel-” Wendy began.

“In the meantime, I already have some surprises for you!” Mabel clapped her hands again, and the three of them were surrounded by people.

All of Wendy’s friends were there, looking happy and carefree-even Thompson. “Wendy!” Nate cheered, grinning and slinging an arm over her shoulder. “We missed you! C’mon, let’s go vandalize some stuff!”

Wendy tried not to match his grin.

A luchador with a big mustache beamed at Soos. “I have returned to you, my son! Would you like to go play catch?” A baseball and catcher’s mitt appeared in his hands.

Soos let out a small, delighted squeal, while his hands rose to either side of his pudgy face.

A tall Asian boy appeared at Candy’s side, who appeared to be from a Korean drama film. He smiled and winked at her, before saying, “Nawa hamkke, gaja segsihan agassi.”

Candy’s pupils dilated. “All my dreams are coming true.” She started to reach for his hand-but then quickly pulled away. “No! Fight it, Candy! Be strong for Grenda!”

Mabel blinked. “Wait, Grenda? What happened to Grenda?”

Before Candy could answer, there was a horrified scream behind them as the last waffle soldier was blasted into pieces, which slowly oozed syrup onto the ground.

* * *

Ford strode towards them, with Dipper hurrying at his side.

“Mabel, I’m sorry about our fight, and that things aren’t great right now, but we’re not letting you stay here,” Dipper said quickly before she could open her mouth. “ _ We _ can’t stay here; it’s not a good place, no matter how nice it seems. You need to come back to the real world with us.”

All the stuffed animals gasped, and covered their mouths in shock. Even the sun (which of course was wearing sunglasses) made an appalled sound.

Mabel’s eyes widened...before narrowing back into that unsettling glare. “Oh, you’ve  _ really _ done it now, Dipper. You just broke our one rule: never, ever, EVER mention reality!”

Seconds later, a glowing light appeared behind her, which opened up to reveal the red, raging hellscape that was the real world.

“I guess if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” She clapped her hands.

Seconds later, both Dipper and Ford had risen into the air, and were being levitated towards the portal.

Dipper looked to Ford in desperation-and saw that despite his clearly trying to remain calm, his eyes were wide with terror.

_ Because this happened to him thirty years ago. He got in a fight with part of his family, and- _

“Wait!” he protested, squirming futilely in the air, “Don’t we at least get a fair trial?!”

They stopped, and the portal closed up again.

“Oh, you want a trial?” Mabel asked darkly. “Fine. We can have a trial.” She lowered them to the ground. “We can have it right. Now.”

* * *

“How ya feeling, Goldfish? Had enough yet?”

Stan struggled to get a handle on his raspy breathing, before glaring through swollen eyes at the triangle and his ugly minions.

“Heh. This is nuthin’ compared to what I went through in Colombia.”

Bill sighed, and began circling him with his arms behind his back.

“Stubbornness really does run in the Pines family, doesn’t it? Even when you have nothing left to lose, you still think that you have something worth fighting for. It would almost be cute if it wasn’t so dumb.”

The gaggle of monsters surrounding him cackled and gibbered in agreement.

“Try shooting lightning at him, boss!” the pink one hissed. “I love how they smell when you do that!”

“Yeah, make his heart stop!” the blue one who’d captured him suggested. His jubilant smile faded when he saw the looks everyone was giving him. “...What?”

“We need him  _ alive _ , Keyhole,” another of the monsters growled. “You forget that already?”

“Uh-no, I just-”

“FLAY HIM,” the one with a giant binky said around it.

Bill floated back into Stan’s line of vision.

“Things can get a lot worse for you, Stanley. But just tell me what I want to know, and it can all stop, right now.”

“Okay.”

He blinked. “Wait, really?”

“No.” Stan tilted his head back, and spat out a thick red glob right into Bill’s eye.

He grinned savagely as the triangle screeched, and frantically tried to clean it out.

* * *

Soon after, Stan started screaming again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if Mabel's hostility or level of insensitivity seem a little out of character for her.  
> As I have mentioned before, my belief is that Mabeland is specifically designed to draw out the worst aspects of her personality, and amplify them tenfold.  
> Plus she hasn't been here as long as in the show, so her anger and hurt over Dipper and Ford's perceived betrayal are still fresh.
> 
> Also, I apologize if Google Translate butchered the Korean.


	10. The trial of Stanford Pines, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though my dad's a judge, my knowledge of how to portray a court case accurately is kind of limited to what I've learned from literature and television.  
> I apologize for any inaccuracy/attribute it to the fact that Mabel's a twelve-year-old who probably knows even less about proper legal proceedings than I do.

The courtroom was _packed_.

Soos, Wendy and Candy sat in the front row, surrounded by a legion of sentient stuffed animals and giant food and other creatures they barely knew how to classify, with that same awful eighties music playing in the background.

Don’t get me wrong, Soos liked eighties music as much as the next guy, but even he didn’t want to hear the same tune over and over and over again unless it was “Straight Blanchin’.”

Mabel sat at a table in front of them, arms folded and face stony, with Dipper in a beanbag chair next to her. And next to the not-yet-occupied judge’s chair stood Stanford Pines, who had undergone yet another wardrobe change.

As bad as the hoodie outfit had been, this one was even worse. He was now wearing a black-and-white striped prisoner’s uniform, complete with the stupid little hat, and he was trapped in one of those boards with holes in it for your head and wrists, like the ones Mr. Pines had been held in on Pioneer Day. There was a sign hanging over it that read ‘LOSER FACE,’ in bright red letters.

“Dude, she is _really_ mad at him,” Soos whispered to Wendy.

Wendy didn’t answer, but she grimaced and gave a tiny nod.

* * *

Dipper looked at Mabel in annoyance.

“Seriously? You’re putting him in the _stocks_?!”

“Well, technically this is a pillory,” Ford corrected. “Stocks is the term for one of these devices that was for imprisoning the criminal’s feet-”

“Would you like to join him, Dipper?” Mabel asked. “Wait, why am I even asking, of _course_ you would.”

She started to raise her hands to clap together-before Dipper smacked them back down.

“Would you stop that?”

Mabel scowled at him, but reluctantly acquiesced.

“All rise, for the honorable Judge Kitty Kitty Meow-Meow-Face-Shwartzstein!” announced a giraffe in a policeman’s uniform.

A large pink cat in a wig and judge’s robes popped out of a hole at the bottom of the chair, and slowly climbed his way up into it.

“Order! Order! The trial begins right meow!” He banged his gavel, which just made a few pathetic squeaky noises, before noticing the large strand of yarn hanging close to his head; instantly he became distracted by playing with it, until the police giraffe reminded him of the situation.

“We are here to try Stanford, and to a lesser extent, _Dipper_ , Pines, for crimes against Mabel’s happiness!”

A chorus of boos and hisses rose up from the crowd.

“If the accused _somehow_ manages to win this case, he and his group of mindless followers-”

Wendy looked up. “Is he seriously talking about us?”

Candy scowled. “Not cool, Mabel.”

“-will be allowed to bring Mabel back to the real world. But if he _loses_ , he will be banished from Mabeland forever! And, unless he renounces his Ford-worshipping ways, Dipper Pines will be banished with him!”

“I do not worship him!” Dipper protested. It was ignored.

Judge Kitty Kitty-Whatever gestured to the still-empty jury box. “The final decision will be made by a jury of your peers!”

Seconds later, the box was filled with six doppelgangers of Mabel, all dressed in different sweaters, who began complimenting each other’s headbands.

Dipper and Ford both groaned in disgust.

“This trial is such an obvious kangaroo court,” Ford muttered.

“Is not!” growled the judge. He gestured over his shoulder. “That’s the courtroom next door.”

There were some loud crashes on the other side of the wall that sounded like a group of large marsupials bouncing around.

* * *

Then the doors of the courtroom swung open, and in strolled the same brightly colored and radical young men from earlier; now they were in very nice suits with the sleeves ripped off.

“We have a doctorate degree in hunkiness!” exclaimed the one with the blue hair (Dipper had given up trying to remember their names).

“That’s not a real degree!” Ford protested.

“Also criminal and international law!” said the other.

“Okay, that one is.”

“Yay, my legal team!” Mabel waved at them as they reached the front of the courtroom.

“Hey! Where’s our legal team?” Dipper asked.

Mabel folded her arms behind her head. “I figure since you guys are so smart you don’t need one. You can be your own legal team.”

“You know that’s not fair!” His hands clenched against the table. “Ugh, you are being so sel-”

“Dipper!”

He jerked his head up to see Ford anxiously shaking his head no. He tried to give Dipper a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Just calm down.”

Dipper gritted his teeth, and tried to remember what he’d learned from every criminal investigation show ever.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to call any last-minute witnesses or try to bust a chair across someone’s teeth.

“Let’s hear opening statements,” Judge Meow Meow proclaimed, squeaking his hammer again.

“Your honor, townsfolk, lovely ladies of the jury-” proclaimed the yellow-haired guy.

All the Mabels swooned; Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Our case is simple: this totally unrighteous dude-” he pointed at Ford.

“Uh, read the sign, bro,” the blue-haired one stage-whispered, “he’s worse than unrighteous! He’s a loser face!”

“Oh, riiiight!” Yellow Hair corrected himself. “This _loser face_ wants Mabel to come back into the real world with him! But we are here to prove that reality is-” he pointed at a board that had suddenly appeared- “bogus, lame and whack!” As he said the words, they appeared on the board.

Ford tilted his head, looking more than a little puzzled. “...Are those things people say now?”

“They are in Mabeland!” The legal team high-fived each other.

Dipper rolled his eyes again, and leaned his hand on his chin.

“We call our first witness, Stanford Pines!”

The “legal team” looked at Ford, and then to the witness chair.

Ford gave them a look, and made a gesture with his hands to indicate the stocks-sorry, _pillory_ -which were anchoring him in place.

“Oh, _riiiight_!” Blue Hair walked over to lean on the side of the pillory. “Mr. Pines, why are you so insistent on bringing Mabel back to the real world anyway?”

Ford sighed. “Because this place is a creation of Bill Cipher, and therefore-”

“Oh, so it’s _not_ because you enjoy ruining her happiness?”

“Objection, your honor!” Dipper leaped to his feet. “That’s leading the witness!”

“Meow-verruled!” The judge squeaked the hammer. “Now sit down!”

Dipper growled, but took his seat.

Ford’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t take any kind of pleasure in ruining Mabel’s happiness.”

“Oh, _really_ ?! Because we’ve got a _lot_ of evidence to the contrary!” Yellow Hair reached into a briefcase and pulled out a familiar, thick, pink scrapbook with random splatters of glittery paint. “I give you Exhibit A: the day the new season of Ducktective came out!”

Dipper flinched.

The scrapbook was opened, and the room changed around them. It showed everyone the day Ford and Dipper had set up their DD&D game in the living room, interrupting Stan, Mabel and Grenda’s plans to have their marathon; then how this resulted in Stan and Ford fighting again, and Stan throwing the infinity-sided dice, accidentally summoning Probabilitor the Annoying.

“Mabel’s fantasy was getting to watch her show with her favorite grunkle and her friend, but thanks to you, her plans were ruined because she had to save you from getting your brains eaten instead!”

Ford spluttered. “You are ignoring several crucial facts-”

“Silence!” The judge hissed at him angrily, while all his fur puffed up and his claws were bared. Then he cleared his throat, and began washing one of his paws.

“Don’t mind me; continue.”

“Thanks, your honor!”

Blue Hair turned the page.

“Exhibit B: the day Mabel learned that unicorns are total butt-faces.”

The enchanted glade where Celestabellebethabelle lived filled the room.

“Oh come on! That wasn’t even his fault! He totally warned her that unicorns were frustrating!” Dipper protested.

“That is so not the point, little dude!” Yellow Hair turned to him. “Up until that point, Mabel was happily obsessed with unicorns, dreaming about them and drawing them and squeezing her Princess Loveacorn at night-now she can barely even look at it, because cold reality ruined unicorns for her forever!”

Mabel folded her arms and stared sulkily down at the tabletop.

“And the worst exhibit of all-Exhibit C!”

Blue Hair turned another page, and suddenly they were in the attic, listening with Mabel to Ford’s voice crackling through the walkie-talkie, asking Dipper to stay with him and become his apprentice.

“As if her day wasn’t hard enough already-finding out that high school’s a nightmare and her friends weren’t going to be at her and Dipper’s thirteenth birthday party, or even get to say goodbye to her when she went home-then she learned that _you_ , Stanford Pines, were going to take away her brother forever!”

The jury booed, as did most of the audience.

Ford tried unsuccessfully to straighten up. “It wouldn’t have been _forever_! Mabel, you are completely overreacting-”

“OVERREACTING?!”

Mabel, ignoring whatever protocol still existed in this courtroom, jumped up and stormed towards the prisoner. One small hand jabbed him right in the nose.

“You _brainwashed_ him into abandoning me, just like you abandoned Grunkle Stan! You still can’t get over your **STUPID GRUDGE** against him, so you don’t want _us_ to be happy together either!”

“That is not true!”

“Oh, isn’t it?!” She snapped her fingers, and suddenly they were seeing the crash site, with Ford and Dipper searching for the adhesive.

“Gosh, we’ve never really been apart before,” past-Dipper said hesitantly.

“And isn’t it suffocating? Dipper, can you honestly tell me you never felt like you were meant for something more?”

Dipper’s heart sank into his stomach. How had she-it had to be that Bill had somehow let her see this memory, since Mabel was nowhere near them when it happened. And if she’d heard that…

No wonder she was so angry.

Mabel glared at Ford one more time, before slowly walking back to her seat.

Her radical legal team looked at each other, and then up at the judge.

“Your honor, the prosecution rests its case.”

Blue Hair produced a microphone from nowhere, and dropped it.


	11. The trial of Stanford Pines, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy.  
> I wrote and rewrote the main parts of this chapter several times before I was somewhat happy with it, and even now I'm hoping it came out as good as it sounded in my head.  
> Fingers crossed.🤞

Finally Judge Kitty Kitty said, “Well, I think this is a pretty open-and-shut case. It’s time for the verdict.”

He started to raise his gavel-

“Wait a minute!”

Dipper stood up. “As the defense, it’s my turn to cross-examine the witness.”

The cat sighed, but leaned his chin on his paw and made no protest.

_ Oh crap what did I just do?! What am I even gonna ask?! Aaaaaaah I have no idea what I’m doing! _

But Dipper squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and slowly walked around to his uncle’s side. His mind raced, and he managed to put together the beginnings of an idea.

“...Are you doing okay?” he hesitantly asked  _ sotto voce _ .

Ford shrugged as much as he was capable of doing. “This is not exactly enjoyable for my shoulders, but I’ve gone through far worse.”

Somehow that was not overly comforting. Dipper cleared his throat.

“Great Uncle Ford, do you care about Mabel?”

Ford blinked. “I-”

“Objection!” Mabel cried. “There’s no point asking that, because he obviously doesn’t-!”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Kitty Kitty interrupted. “I’m sure that we are all curious to know his answer. Especially me, because I’m a cat. Meow meow.”

Mabel scowled, before folding her arms and scooting further back into her beanbag.

Dipper looked at Ford expectantly. He appeared to be interested in his shoes for a long moment, before finally murmuring, “Of course I do.”

“When I came back, the first thing she said to me, besides a general demand wanting to know what was going on, was to compliment my hands. It had been a long time since anyone had been that friendly towards them, especially when I was living in this dimension, and I appreciated it.” Ford smiled wistfully. “She never fails to impress me with her bright creativity and enthusiasm. Even here, in this...very unorthodox courtroom, I admire it.” He gestured at the menagerie of brightly colored creatures that surrounded them, and the varied designs of the Mabel-jury’s sweaters. “I...have admittedly not expressed it as well as I should have, but of course I care about Mabel.”

* * *

For a second Mabel’s eyes widened...but then she glared, and shook her head stubbornly. “Nuh-uh. Nope. You’re making that up so I won’t banish you.”

Dipper snatched the scrapbook from one of the dream boys desperately. “How about we look a little further at some of your evidence? Because as Great Uncle Ford said, there’s a few crucial details that your legal team overlooked.”

He turned back to the page showing the day of Ducktective; this time they watched further as Mabel, Grenda and Stan played DD&D to save Ford and Dipper from the annoying wizard, imagining up crazy weapons and bouncy shoes before at last finishing off the Impossibeast with exploding muffins.

“I know it was rude of us to set up our game in a room we knew you were planning on using,” Dipper admitted. “I’m sorry we got so carried away. But in the end, we got to watch the second showing of Ducktective together anyway,  _ and _ you got to create flaming swords and a centaur-taur and stuff, and-and see that hot elf, beforehand. So even if you didn’t get what you wanted right away, you still got to have a good day, right?”

He could see the corner of her mouth turn up a little.

With his confidence building, Dipper turned the page.

“And even if unicorns turned out to be jerks, in the end you did get their hair, which we needed to protect the Shack from Bill since our plan of trying to encrypt our minds, well, literally blew up in our faces.” He looked down at his shoes sheepishly, remembering how his panicking had led to that little disaster. “We were both so proud of you for being able to do that.” In the memory, past-Ford beamed down at his disheveled niece and ruffled her hair, before saying, “You’re a good person, Mabel.”

Several members of the audience “awww’d”; Soos blew his nose loudly.

But then his hopes, which had been rising ever higher, plummeted as Mabel’s scowl deepened again. “That doesn’t change the fact that he thinks I’m  _ suffocating _ .”

A sea of hostile (and in Soos, Wendy and Candy’s case, anxious) eyes turned back to Ford.

Ford’s mouth opened and shut, clearly struggling for words. Finally he managed to go with, “I offered the apprenticeship because I wanted to help Dipper fulfill his potential. He is a brilliant young man who loves the strangeness of Gravity Falls, and I want to give him an opportunity to study it that I would have loved to have when I was his age. I-admittedly suffocating was a poor choice of words, but I only meant that I thought it would be good for both of you to have a chance to learn and grow as individual people-”

If he was hoping to soothe her, he failed miserably. Her hands curled into trembling fists, and the jug of Mabel Juice sitting at her elbow actually exploded, sending the colorful drink flying onto everyone in the vicinity.

“THIS is exactly why I have no reason to go back to the real world!” Mabel screeched, jumping to her feet. “Everything that makes me happy is being taken away when the summer’s over!”

Judge Kitty Kitty raised his hammer, but another surge of power sent it flying out of his paw; with an angry meow he went chasing after it. Mabel obliviously pointed a trembling finger at Ford as she continued to yell.

“You don’t get to make that decision for us! You don’t get to decide when we’re ready to grow apart!” Her voice was still filled with fury-but underneath it Dipper could hear something else now. Something that was trying to break through to the surface.

“I didn’t decide anything!” Ford protested. “I simply offered him the opportunity, and if you’ll recall, he said yes!  _ He  _ decided, you should be happy for him, instead of-”

“I DON’T  _ WANT _ TO BE HAPPY FOR HIM!”

Out of nowhere, a strong wind surged through the courtroom and wrapped itself around Mabel; it blew her hair and sweater around wildly, and actually lifted her a couple of inches off the floor. She glared furiously down at her imprisoned uncle, and continued to shout.

“I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE TO MY BROTHER AT THE END OF THE SUMMER, ALONG WITH MY CHILDHOOD AND MY PIG AND EVERYTHING ELSE!  _ I’M NOT READY TO BE ALONE!!!! _ ”

* * *

The pillory ripped itself open, and Ford went flying backwards to crash into the wall with a thud. At the same time, all the windows smashed at once, and enormous pieces of multicolored glass rained down on the crowd. People ducked their heads in fear-at least until some of them realized that the “stained glass” was actually just pieces of spun sugar, and several of them started happily eating.

Dipper and his companions, however, were not interested in eating spun sugar windows. They were all far too focused on the little girl who had just had all the rage drained out of her. Slowly the winds dissipated, lowering her back down to the floor as the red lighting returned to its normal gaudy color. As soon as she reached it, she curled up in a ball and started sobbing miserably into her knees.

Slowly, hesitantly, Dipper stepped forward, and then knelt to put a hand on her shoulder.

“...I didn’t realize how scared you were,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I made you feel abandoned. I should have talked about it with you before saying yes.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I know-I know you really wanna do this, and it’s such a cool opportunity, so I don’t  _ blame  _ you or anything. But-but everything’s changing so fast, and I thought I’d at least have you, and-and then you were gone too.” She hugged her knees more tightly.

Dipper just curled around her as best he could.

After a few minutes of just letting her cry herself out, Dipper cleared his throat. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to bring this up, but he wasn’t sure if there was going to be a better one. “Mabel, Grunkle Stan’s in trouble.”

Mabel froze, looking up at him and blinking in an owlish way that gave her a somewhat eerie resemblance to Ford.

“Wh-what?”

“When Weirdmageddon started, we saw him get captured by Bill. We need your help.” Dipper looked at his sister pleadingly.

Candy picked her way through the mess to kneel at her other side. “He is not the only one. Grenda is his prisoner too. Many people are.”

“Tambry and the guys,” Wendy added, joining them.

“My grandma wasn’t captured, but she got turned into a chair,” said Soos. He sucked on a shard of window.

Mabel’s mouth trembled, and her eyes glimmered with fresh tears.

And then Ford finally spoke up, making his way towards them before kneeling down in front of her.

“I know that I...have hurt you very badly. I’m sorry that I caused all this mess. But-please. Don’t make Stanley, and everyone else in Gravity Falls, pay for my mistakes.”

Mabel looked down uncertainly.

“If you come with us, I’ll take more time to think about the apprenticeship,” Dipper said.

Her shoulders drooped. He could tell without even asking what she was thinking.

“I can’t definitely promise that I’ll say no to it. I know that’s not the answer you want, sorry. But-whatever I choose, I don’t want to lose you either. Because you are not suffocating. You’re my sister.”

Mabel wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and gave him a wobbly smile.

“...Promise?”

“Yes. Definitely. Absolutely.”

* * *

  
As Mabel pulled her brother into her arms, Ford tried to ignore the sudden aching,  _ longing  _ feeling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I saw it, Mabel here is kind of like Spinel from Steven Universe. Ultimately, she just needed to confront her feelings and get them out of her system.


	12. Meanwhile, back at the Fearamid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains some mentions of rather horrific torture.  
> Hopefully nothing too graphic, but I thought I should warn you just in case.  
> I'm just conscientious like that.  
>  _Commences writing about said horrific torture ___

It turned out that Bill could be extremely creative when he decided to torture someone.

When he realized that Stan had dentures, he made his teeth grow back in, just so he could rip them out over and over.

When he realized that Stan needed a hearing aid, he fixed up both of his ears so he could hear his own screams more effectively.

When he realized that Stan had cataracts, he cleared those right up-and then ripped his eyes out of their sockets and replaced them with baby heads, before putting them back in again, and doing this a couple more times until he got bored.

And that was just the stuff that’s the most comfortable to mention aloud.

Stan couldn’t tell how long he’d been here. Everything was just a haze of agony interspersed with interrogation and insults and demonic cackling from all sides, occasionally stopping when Bill would ask him if he was ready for it to end.

All Stan could do was croak out defiance, telling the triangle and his group of freaks what they could do with themselves, and then brace himself for the next wave of pain.

* * *

He opened his eyes with a gasp, jerking wildly in his chains, as his chest throbbed. He realized that the demon must have made his heart stop, and then quickly restarted it again.

_ Ugh. So  _ that’s  _ what a real heart attack feels like. Guess I oughta remember that for if I ever try ta trick my way into getting on a game show again. _

Stan’s tongue probed at the fresh gaping hole in his mouth where one of his newly-grown eyeteeth had been yanked out beforehand, and he managed to lift his head enough to see Bill hovering in front of him expectantly.

He opened his mouth.

“Ow.”

Bill let out a frustrated growl.

“What is WRONG with you?!” he demanded. “Why are you still tryna protect old Six-Fingers after everything he’s done to you?! You should be giving me his HEAD on a silver platter, and instead you’re just letting me rip you apart over and over!”

Stan shrugged as best he could with his arms spread apart by chains the way they were. “...Guess I’m just a sucker for punishment like that,” he rasped.

Bill sighed, and snapped his fingers; Stan felt the worst of his injuries healing up good as new, and knew things were about to suck.

“Whaddya think, guys? More electric shock, or seeing if we can make him puke up all his internal organs?”

Various suggestions were thrown forward, and Stan closed his eyes in preparation.

Before any of them could be implemented, however, a familiar annoying voice piped up.

“Boss! Boss!”

Bill groaned dramatically.

“ _ NOW _ what, Keyhole?!”

Stan opened his eyes, and saw the jerk who’d captured him in the first place doing a little excited dance next to the throne made out of people who’d been turned to stone. “Look who the eye bats caught tryna get past the barrier out of town!”

He pointed to a couple of familiar stone figures that had been set on the arm of the throne. One of them was very small and pudgy, with a ridiculously high head of hair that Stan could see even from here.

Stan couldn’t help smirking a little; he’d never realized how much he would love to see Gideon turned to stone.

Bill floated over, and snatched up the Gideon statue. After a second it unfroze, and the little ventriloquist dummy came to life. He took one look at Bill and screamed.

“It wasn’t my fault, I swear-!”

“Seriously, kid? You had ONE JOB, and you completely screwed it up!” Bill put his free hand on his hip, and asked scoldingly, “What am I gonna do with you, hmm?”

“Bill, listen ta me!” Gideon pleaded. “Dipper and Wendy showed up, and I was gonna deliver ‘em to you, but their friend, he shot me! And by the time I woke up they’d already taken Mabel’s key and-”

“Wait wait wait, what friend?!” Bill’s eye narrowed.

“I didn’t see his face, he had on some kinda cheap hoodie, like what angsty teenagers like wearin’!” Gideon clasped his pudgy hands in front of him. “Please, you gotta believe me!!!!”

_ Ugh, does he have  _ any _ backbone at all? _ Stan couldn’t help shaking his head in disgust. And then he realized who this “friend” Gideon was talking about had to be.

He was disgusted by how much his heart leapt with relief at the realization that  _ he _ was safe, and that at least two of his kids were safe. Even if he didn’t remember Mabel having a key, didn’t know what that meant. But it sounded like they were all going to be together soon enough. That was good; if anyone could protect them, it was Ford-as long as he didn’t decide that some new dumb mystery was more important, of course.

Bill patted Gideon on the head; he tried to escape to no avail, and scowled, clearly not enjoying having his hair flattened like that.

“Don’t worry, Gideon, I believe you.”

“...Really?” The kid smiled in relief. “So you’ll let me go?”

“Of course not! You still failed me, so I’m gonna make you do cute dances for all eternity!”

The smile dropped. “Wait, what?”

A snap of Bill’s fingers later, and he was in a horrifically gaudy sailor suit, and stuffed into a tiny cage above the throne-and as Bill had said, he began doing some kind of stupid little dance, clearly against his will.

“No! NOOOOO!!!!” the boy wailed, ineffectively.

But Bill was done paying attention to him; he turned back towards Stan, while in the background a few of his minions took delight in swatting the cage, making it swing about as the boy inside squealed and wailed.

* * *

“Well, well, well!” Bill chirped. “I just had a bit of an epiphany, Stanley! Maybe Stanford’s not the one you’re trying so hard to protect! Maybe you’re  _ not _ that pathetic!”

Stan got a cold feeling in his gut.  _ No, no, no no no no no nononononono _ -

“Yeah I am! Trust me!”

Bill wasn’t listening.

“Maybe  _ you’re  _ not the one I should be torturing to get you or Stanford to tell me what I wanna know!”

Without even thinking about it, Stan lurched forward in his chains as best he could when he was literally dangling in the air.

“Listen to me, you one-eyed demon.” Even without an exclamation point at the end of the sentence, his tone was dark enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room, except for the frozen statues whose attention was currently un-drawable. “If you do  _ anything _ to my kids, there is  _ nothing  _ and  _ no one _ in the universe that’ll keep me from destroying you.”

There was a moment of shocked silence, aside from the sound of Gideon’s rapidly tapping feet.

Then Bill tilted backwards, and burst into loud, cackling laughter. Soon enough his minions joined in, the noise reverberating off the walls of the Fearamid all around Stan.

“Oh, oh boy, that is just  _ priceless _ !” Bill wiped a tear from his eye; when it hit the floor, it ate a hole in the bricks or whatever this thing was made of. “If I had a dime for every time someone, even a  _ mortal _ , made that kind of threat towards me, I’d be rich beyond imagining! That’s cute, Stanley!  _ Real  _ cute!”

He looked towards his hench maniacs. “You know what to do, guys! Go out and bring me those kids!”

A door opened in the side of the Fearamid, and the monsters went bounding towards it.

Bill raised his arms dramatically.

“Fly, my pretties! Fly, fly, FLY!”


	13. Stanford Pines: Hero or Idiot?

Needless to say, soon enough the inside of Mabel’s bubble disintegrated into chaos, and the little rescue party were forced to flee for their lives on the back of Waddles, who was somehow a) here, even though as far as Dipper knew he’d been back at the Mystery Shack when all this madness started, and b) giant-sized. Despite that, he was glad to ride him to safety, as Mabel used an enormous knitting needle to quite literally burst her bubble.

The six of them resurfaced in a giant pile of confetti, back in the real world, and back in their old torn-up clothes. A few seconds later Waddles, back to normal size, poked his head out of the confetti too; Mabel squealed and pulled him into her arms. Ford reached into the front pocket of his hoodie, and sighed with relief when he found the quantum destabilizer still snug inside of it.

To Dipper’s alarm, there was no sign of McGucket’s robot. Also, as he stood up to look for it he saw instead a series of large, dark shapes on the horizon, coming rapidly closer. Even from this distance, he could hear them laughing and screeching on the wind.

“Um, Great Uncle Ford…”

Ford looked up-and blanched.

“QI’yaH!”

He immediately covered his mouth, and glanced at them apologetically, before realizing they had bigger problems than whatever it was he’d just said. “We need to hide! Quickly, this way!” He began herding them towards a nearby rock formation that even Dipper could tell wouldn’t be of much use in the long run...but had to admit, their other options were kind of limited.

All around them there was nothing but flat, empty wasteland, and the car they’d used to get here in the first place was still on the other end of the canyon.

They were well and truly trapped.

“Great Uncle Ford, what do we do?!” he asked as they ducked behind the shelter.

“ _You_ are all going to stay here,” Ford ordered. He pulled the quantum destabilizer out of his pocket, and after looking back and forth between them, handed it to Dipper as apparently the most responsible-looking one of the bunch. Then he drew one of his other guns. “I’ll lure them away. When I get far enough-”

“Dude, I gotta ask, are you nuts?” Wendy demanded, stepping right into his path. “You don’t stand a chance against all of those freaks!”

“I’ve done it before!” Ford snapped. “Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s me they’re after, not you!”

“Which is exactly why it’s a stupid idea! You’d just be giving them what they want! How about you try again, and come up with a plan that _doesn’t_ involve giving Bill any kind of advantage over us?!”

Ford growled in frustration. “Must you question _all_ my decisions, St-”

“LOOK!”

Everyone was distracted from the mini-drama taking place by Candy’s cry; they turned, and saw what she was pointing at.

The creatures had gotten closer, revealing that, as they had suspected, they were Bill’s various minions. And they were almost upon them by now, just reaching the canyon.

Mabel whimpered a little, and Dipper instinctively grabbed her hand.

Ford tried to shove past Wendy, but she shoved him back, showing far more strength than her thin fifteen-year-old body seemed capable of.

And then a giant black tentacle rose up out of the canyon and smacked the giant sentient teeth out of the sky, sending them flying to smash through one of the few billboards that was still standing in town.

Slowly, like the great leviathan that was supposed to rise from the ocean on Judgement Day, McGucket’s robot oozed up out of the giant crevice. It roared, and balanced itself on one set of tentacles, while using the ones composing its other “arm” to grab two more monsters and smash their heads together before dropping them to the ground.

Another monster, the pink one that was maybe a female, lunged with a shrill cry; the robot lassoed her with one of its tentacles, pinning her arms to her sides, and hurled her into the other monsters like a bowling ball amongst nine pins. It took advantage of their dazedness to turn and come lunging over towards the group’s hiding spot.

Candy and Mabel both screamed, and tried to run; Dipper and Soos had to hurriedly grab them.

“It’s okay, that’s McGucket!”

“He built _another_ robot?!” Mabel looked up at it in amazement-just before it grabbed them up in one tentacle, pig and all, and thrust them into its mouth.

For one horrifying moment Dipper wondered if they’d made a mistake, and this actually was some kind of surreal monster that McGucket had based his robot on and they were about to be digested by it.

But then, when the jaws closed, a green light began to glow inside the mouth, and a familiar screechy voice came from an intercom in the wall.

“Hold on tight, everyone-Ah jes’ gotta get us away from these critters!” McGucket whooped, and they were suddenly being thrown around like pinballs as the robot began moving again.

* * *

Ford grabbed Dipper and Mabel, holding them against him so his body would absorb most of the impact. To his relief, no matter how complicated their emotions might be towards him right now they both clung to him, burying their faces in his chest as they went flying forward to collide with the robot’s front “teeth.”

_Fiddleford really does need to install some kind of safety precautions in this thing._

Then he felt his stomach get left behind as a distinct sensation of plummeting downwards occurred, and managed to grab onto the tip of one of the teeth to keep them anchored in place.

There was a loud “WHOA!” and a thud above them, indicating that Soos had not been as lucky; Ford just held both his kids as best he could and hoped Fiddleford knew what he was doing.

The robot surged up and down several more times-almost like being on a roller coaster-before it finally came to a stop.

Ford lifted his head and looked up at the other children. “Is everyone all right?”

Dipper sat up. “Groan to let us know you’re alive.”

A chorus of “Uggggghhhh” rose up, along with a pained-sounding grunt.

Mabel hurriedly scrambled away from Ford. “Waddles! Stay where you are, Waddles, I’ll come to you!” She rushed off to find her pig.

A few seconds later there was a _ding_ , and the elevator at the back of the throat opened up. Fiddleford came hobbling out onto the tongue.

“Didja get-” he saw Mabel- “oh good, ya did! Good ta see you’re okay, munchkin! So, where to now, folks?”

Ford sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “...Where are we?”

“Somewhere a couple hunnerd feet unnerground, last I checked!”

Wendy blinked. “Whoa, really?”

Fiddleford nodded and grinned. “Most of the monsters ain’t interested in goin’ below the surface, not when there’s a lotta people up there they can mess with, so in between rescuin’ whoever I can find we mostly jes’ hide out down in here, do a bit o’ explorin’. Kinda like Captain Nemo, ‘cept we ain’t in the ocean!”

Mabel stood up. “We need to come up with a plan to rescue Grunkle Stan.”

* * *

Fiddleford piloted the robot further along the canyon until he found a ledge they could safely rest on, and then everyone gathered for a council of war in the eating area. Ford idly noticed that a couple of new people appeared to have been picked up while they were gone, but again, nobody he was all that familiar with.

“Great Uncle Ford, what happened to your trench coat?” Mabel asked as they waited for everyone to get settled in.

“Wendy made him switch clothes because Bill’s probably looking for someone dressed like he usually is,” Dipper leaned around Ford to tell her.

“Oh.” She looked at him thoughtfully, chewing a strand of hair. “...It’s actually not that bad. I mean, it doesn’t swish around dramatically like the trench coat does, but it can still work.”

Ford’s shoulders inadvertently hunched. “As soon as I can I’m getting my regular clothes back.”

“Oh come on, dude!” Wendy sighed. “Look, the reason why you’re hating your new outfit so much is because you’re not putting any effort into owning it!”

Ford blinked. “...Technically you stole this, so I can’t really own-”

She groaned. “It’s an expression. Look, just-stand up for a second.”

Ford reluctantly did so. Wendy pulled him over to one of the walls, which had a kind of reflective surface, and lifted his hood up until it was partly covering his eyes.

“Okay, now shoulders back, and hold one of your guns loosely by your hip.”

Ford did so, even as he felt increasingly bemused.

Wendy nodded her approval; so did the other children, who had all clustered around him. “Yeah, that’s a lot better. Nice and intimidating.”

“Dude, you look totally sick!” one of Wendy’s brothers piped up.

Ford gave her a look. “See? He thinks I look terrible.”

Wendy guffawed. “No, that-that’s a compliment now.”

Ford blinked. “...I do not understand modern vocabulary at all.”

At that moment, though, the last people showed up for the meeting, and they all went back to their seats.

Fiddleford sighed and scratched his head under his hat once they were all settled around the tables.

“Up to this point I’ve mostly been able ta wander around freely, since all the monsters jes’ think this here’s another monster, but after I rescued you lot there’s a chance the cat’s outta the bag. Otherwise I’d just march right up ta that ugly peer-amid right now.”

“Thanks for saving us, McGucket,” Mabel said, beaming at him.

Fiddleford smiled a little shyly, and reached out to ruffle her hair. “Ah hush-it was nuthin’.”

“Maybe we could use this robot to dig a tunnel to under the Fearamid, and then burst out and punch right through it like Rumble McSkirmish!” Soos suggested, punching a fist in the air for emphasis.

Fiddleford let out a slightly long-suffering sigh. “We’ve talked about this, boy. This machine ain’t equipped for digging _or_ punching. It’s got tentacles. You caint use tentacles for punchin’.”

Soos’s shoulders hunched. “Sorry, dude.”

“Do you think you could build another robot?” Dipper asked. But then he flinched. “Never mind; we probably don’t have that kind of time.”

“We should go back to the Mystery Shack,” Ford finally spoke up.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

“It’s been specifically fortified for protection against Bill; it’s probably the safest place in Gravity Falls right now. That way all of you can stay safe.”

Despite how casually he tried to say it, Fiddleford’s eyes narrowed; so did Wendy’s and Dipper’s.

“What about you, Stanford?” Fiddleford asked, folding his skinny arms.

Ford sighed. “I have a weapon we can use to destroy Bill.” He produced the quantum destabilizer. “If I go alone, I can probably get into the Fearamid and-”

“What part of ‘come up with a plan that _doesn’t_ give Bill a potential advantage over us’ did you not understand?” Wendy demanded. “I swear, it’s like you got some kinda martyr complex or something!”

“Yeah! Great Uncle Ford, there’s no way you can take on Bill by yourself!” Dipper’s voice cracked with anxiety.

“Dipper, you don’t understand-”

“Don’t understand what? That you feel like this whole mess is your fault so you have to be the one to fix it?”

Ford froze. His nephew stared up at him defiantly.

“Yeah, I know what that feels like. And it’s not true, no matter how much you think it is.”

Ford flinched. “Bill wouldn’t be in this dimension at all if it wasn’t for me. He persuaded me to build the portal, and give him access to my mind, and-”

“Do you _hear_ yourself?”

To his surprise, it was that blonde-haired girl from earlier who spoke. She was leaning her elbow on the table and giving him a very unimpressed stare.

“You’re saying it’s _your_ fault that someone else tricked and manipulated you? That-that’s like a whole new level of victim blaming!”

Ford spluttered, until he felt a tiny hand slip into his.

“Pacifica’s right, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, squeezing his hand. “This isn’t your fault.”

Ford felt a small lump rise in his throat, tried to swallow it. “But-”

“No buts.” She sat up on the edge of the table, and gave him a stern glare. “Look. Is it Dipper’s fault that Bill tricked him into letting him steal his body and try to destroy the journal?”

“Of course not!” Just the thought made Ford’s stomach churn.

“Is it-” Mabel flinched, and looked down guiltily for a second, before appearing to change whatever she’d been about to ask. “Then it’s not your fault Bill tricked you either. He’s a big yellow jerk who likes to hurt people, and you should stop beating yourself up for what happened.”

The lump was becoming rapidly harder to swallow; all Ford could manage was a tiny nod.

Dipper stood up on his chair and looked around at everyone else. “I do think Great Uncle Ford is right in that we should go to the Mystery Shack. We can figure out our next move from there, maybe after we get a chance to sleep. That okay with everyone else?”

There were eager nods all around.

Dipper turned to Fiddleford. “You think you can get us there?”

Fiddleford grinned and saluted. “Don’t you worry none! Ah’ll bring us there in double the speed-I’ve been meanin’ ta see how fast Ah can make this baby go!” And he scampered off for the elevator towards the control room.

Everyone looked at each other nervously.

* * *

Fortunately, they managed to make it to the Shack with minimal injury and bouncing around, and hurriedly made their way inside. Somehow it was still unoccupied, but it swiftly became _way_ more crowded than usual with so many people coming in; regardless, they made themselves comfortable as best they could. Ford (somewhat reluctantly) allowed some of them to set up down in the basement, and all the kids decided to have a sort-of slumber party up in the attic.

Despite (or perhaps because of) all the stress they’d been undergoing, before long virtually everyone was fast asleep.

Late in the lack-of-night, however, one person was wide awake, and composing a letter in the room that had been his ever since he returned. It took him quite some time to figure out exactly what he wanted to say, but at last he was satisfied with the end result.

_Dear Dipper and Mabel,_

_I understand what you told me about Bill’s presence in Gravity Falls not being my fault, and I appreciate it. However, whether or not it is my fault, it_ _is_ _my responsibility, and I don’t want to risk anyone else’s life on my account._

_I am going to go save Stanley alone, by any means necessary; I beg all of you to stay in the Shack, and not attempt to come after me, because if Bill were to harm any of you I would never forgive myself._

_One way or another, I mean for this insanity to come to an end._

_-Ford_

Ford left the note in an envelope on the kitchen table, addressed to his niece and nephew. Then, carrying Dipper’s flashlight and the quantum destabilizer in the pouch of his hoodie, he slipped out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can guess what everyone's answer is going to be to the chapter title.😛


	14. Oops, Ford did it again

It took Ford a few minutes of thought before he came up with a plan for how he was actually going to  _ get _ to Bill’s lair. Once he decided, though, he picked a nearby tree, and climbed up into the highest branches. Compared to some of the athletic feats he’d been forced to do out in the multiverse, it was a walk in the park, but he still felt a twinge of annoyance at the amount of sap and pine needles that got stuck to his hands. As soon as he found a spot that was relatively comfortable to sit down, he occupied himself with cleaning them off a little bit while he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

After what must have been an hour an eyebat came winging along, apparently looking for some unsuspecting creature it could turn to stone. Ford drew himself up into a crouch, and waited until it was almost directly under him-and then jumped.

He landed right on top of the eye, and hurriedly seized the wings. The eyebat, despite not possessing a mouth, somehow managed to make a noise a little like a squeal, and reared back, trying to buck him off, while a beam of red light shot from it and immobilized a swarm of passing mosquitoes; Ford just twisted the tops of the wings and snapped, “Quiet!”

The noise stopped, and he saw the pupil starting to swivel upwards; he twisted the wings again and growled, “Don’t even think about it.”

The eye bat looked downward again, and surprisingly, he thought it almost seemed like it was trembling under his fingers.

“Can you understand me? Nod-”  _ No, you might fall off- _ “Blink-”  _ No, you knucklehead, it doesn’t have eyelids; I wonder if it needs to sleep-FOCUS! _ “Flap once for yes.”

After a second he felt the wings flex hard under his hands.

“Good. Now listen to me, and listen  _ closely _ .” Ford leaned down, and spoke in his softest, most dangerous voice. “You’re going to take me to Bill’s hideout. You will use the swiftest route, avoiding encountering any of his other minions, or in any other way alerting him that I am coming. And once we get there and I am safely inside, you will leave without trying to turn me to stone or in any other way hindering me. If you obey all these orders, then you can fly away from here without getting a hole blasted clean through your middle. Do I make myself clear?”

The wings feebly flapped again.

“Good.” Ford sat up in a crouch, and loosened his hold enough for the eye bat to take flight. “Now get going.”

* * *

Soon enough the great pyramid in the sky was in sight.

Ford whipped his head from side to side, keeping an eye out for the rest of Bill’s minions, but none of them came close enough to worry him.

The eye bat spiraled its way towards a hole that was opening up in the side of the Fearamid-presumably the main entrance, since he saw a few of its comrades flying in through it with their own stone trophies, presumably for whatever nefarious purpose Bill was using them. Ford, however, tugged on the wings again.

“Not here. Go around to the back.”

The eye bat whined again, but obeyed.

Ford held on tight as his ride flapped its way towards the back of the Fearamid. As soon as they were close enough, he drew his spare gun from under his hoodie, and then with a few quick shots created a hole in the wall. Fortunately, he could see a floor there; he leaped off of the eye bat onto it, doing a quick roll and jumping out of view in case the creature decided to take the opportunity to double-cross him.

But there was the sound of wings flapping away, and soon enough he was alone, in the lion’s den. Possibly to go alert Bill of his arrival; he’d have to move quickly.

Ford looked around, and found himself in a hallway. Everything was made of those strange dark bricks, and the design of the place appeared to be made without any kind of rhyme or reason-not surprising, really, considering who the architect was. Pillars were scattered higgledy-piggledy in corners and diagonally between wall and ceiling; it took Ford a moment to realize that it all seemed to be for the purpose of making everything as triangular-shaped as possible.

_ There really is no end to Bill’s narcissism, is there? _

Quietly Ford pulled out the quantum destabilizer and the flashlight, using the latter to grow the former back to its normal size. Keeping it clenched in his hands, he began sneaking down the corridor.

He peered out into a vast, empty cavern, with a giant window in the side of one of the walls that looked like a giant red eye. Right under it was a massive throne that upon closer observation Ford realized appeared to be made out of stone statues. And right above it, hanging by his arms from a set of glowing blue chains-

“Stanley!”

Ford actually started to step out into the room before he forced himself to freeze, and do a more complete surveillance.

It  _ seemed _ to be empty, but when it came to Bill that meant nothing. Ford wouldn’t put it past him to be lurking in the shadows, waiting for Ford to step up and try to rescue his brother. It also occurred to him, all of a sudden, that even if he did manage to get Stan free, they currently had no way of getting down from here.

...Well, he’d just have to shoot Bill with the destabilizer and hope that would be enough, then.

Ford gave a small, decisive nod, and then stepped out into view while brandishing it.

No sign of Bill or his friends, in any direction he turned. Ford didn’t relax his grip as he made his way across the room, but eventually made it to the foot of the throne unhindered.

Stan didn’t appear to be conscious.

His eyes were shut, and his head lolled limply against one of his arms as he dangled helplessly.

“Stan?” he called up to him. His voice quivered a little at the edges.

No reply.

Unfortunately his brother was not even close to within jumping distance. He considered just shooting the chains off...but who knew what kind of condition his brother was in; he might not be able to withstand falling from such a height, even if Ford somehow managed to catch him.

As he pondered what to do now, whether he should just try climbing up the throne and making Stan fall from a shorter distance, he suddenly registered the sound of wild tapping. It took him a moment to realize where it was coming from; he looked up, and saw that Stan was not the only prisoner in this room. A little ways away there was a cage, and that same obnoxious child from the junkyard was inside, dancing madly.

He let out a few panting gasps, before demanding in a breathless tone, “What are  _ you _ looking at, you monster?!”

Ford barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh,  _ I’m _ the monster? That’s rich coming from the one who thought he could earn a young girl’s love by keeping her prisoner!”

“Mabel loves me! She just-doesn’t know it yet! And you  _ shot _ me!”

Ford rolled his eyes and looked away; he didn’t have time to deal with this delusional mini-Crampelter-in-the-making. He had to figure out how to get Stan free-

And then a solution presented itself when he shoved his hands back into his front pocket.

_ Well, I always did want to try making myself taller one day. _

Ford pointed the flashlight at himself, making sure it was turned in the right direction, and let himself stretch.

It was a little dizzying, changing himself to not only a larger height but a major difference in mass and build, but once he was big enough he reached out and scooped Stan into one hand.

With the other he used the flashlight to make the chains big enough for his brother’s arms to slide free.

Stan lay limply in his hand, looking like a broken doll. Now that he was getting a better look at him, Ford could see that his suit-the one their father had given him-had been cut practically to ribbons, only adding to his disheveled appearance. Even the Order of the Holy Mackerel fez was ripped up, and missing part of the tassel. Also, alarmingly, there was a trickle of dried blood coming from the corner of his mouth, and he smelled disturbingly like burned hair, along with blood and vomit and other fluids. But at least now Ford could see that he was raggedly breathing.

Gently Ford set Stan on the floor, and then used the flashlight to shrink himself back to normal size.

“Hey!” protested the boy (Gideon, Ford finally remembered that his name was), even as he did a little tapping spin inside his cage. “What about me?”

Ford didn’t spare him so much as a glance. “What  _ about _ you?”

If Gideon said anything else, he didn’t hear it; he was too busy bending down and gently shaking his brother’s shoulders.

“Stanley? Can you hear me?”

No answer. Not even a groan.

Ford winced, and then-just in case-he lifted Stan’s eyelids and took a look.

No yellow; no slitted pupils. Just bloodshot brown eyes that rolled back in their sockets.

Ford sighed in relief-and then had an epiphany.

He could just make himself gigantic again, and get back to the ground, before shrinking back to normal. In hindsight it was kind of an obvious solution-

“Well, well,  _ well _ ! Look who decided to show up after all!”

* * *

It was all Ford could do not to scream; slowly he straightened up, and turned to see that familiar yellow face hovering above him, single eye stretched into a wide smirk.

“And here I was beginning to think Goldfish was right about you after all!” he chirped cheerfully.

“...What are you talking about?” Ford demanded, fumbling for the destabilizer.

Bill lifted one of his hands; after a second it twisted, changing shape until of all things, it resembled a Stan-shaped sock puppet, right down to his fez and glasses.

The demon moved the puppet’s “mouth,” and an excellent imitation of Stan’s voice came ringing out of it.

“Ford’s never gonna come ta save me.” Bill made its shoulders slump in a dejected fashion. “He doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead.”

Without his meaning them to, Ford’s hands fumbled on the gun. His heart clenched. That-that couldn’t be true, could it? Stan hadn’t  _ really _ said that, right?

No, of course not, this was probably just another one of Bill’s tricks. And he was wasting time getting distracted by it when he should be getting rid of this living nightmare once and for all!

Ford quickly raised the gun, took aim, fired-

* * *

  
  
  


-and missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some obvious differences, of course, but I feel like this song does a relatively good job of encompassing Ford's current emotional state: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgUKQCVieWM  
> Or if it doesn't, it will really soon.


	15. Knight acts while kings talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter feels rushed.

To be fair to Ford, it only happened because at that very moment one of Bill’s henchmaniacs-the big purple one that looked kind of like a giant loaf of bread with limbs-burst into the Fearamid, making the floor shake, and bellowed,  **“BILL! MABEL’S BUBBLE IS GONE! WE SEARCHED THE ENTIRE WASTELAND, BUT THERE’S NO SIGN OF THE KIDS!”**

Ford was caught off guard, and thrown off balance, making his shot go wide and blast a hole in the wall, instead of the triangle that was his intended target.

Bill just cackled, and waved his hand; the destabilizer was yanked from Ford’s grasp, and crushed into a hunk of metal in the air, before dropping unceremoniously to the floor.

“Don’t worry about it, Zanthar! We got a much bigger fish right here-look who decided to wander in! Old Six-Fingers himself!”

He reached down, and with a flick of his fingers knocked Ford’s hood off.

Up in his cage, Gideon gasped.

“Wha-?! There’s  _ two _ Stanford Pineses?!”

Everyone ignored him.

“He came in here thinking he was gonna be the big bad hero and kill me with  _ this  _ thing, apparently!” Bill cackled. “Really turned out great for him, huh?”

The purple loaf guffawed.  **“WHAT A CHUMP!”**

“I know, right? He just keeps on giving me exactly what I want!”

They laughed again, before Bill suddenly turned serious.

“All the same, though, keep looking for the kids. They’re these two’s weakness, and therefore they’re our ticket to finally getting outta this dump!”

The purple creature saluted, and then lumbered back to the door, before leaping away.

* * *

It was like a cold hand had plunged right into Ford’s chest and wrapped around his heart.

“Bill!” He took an inadvertent step forward. “Leave the kids alone! They’re of no use to you!”

Bill snorted. “ _ Au contraire _ , Stanford! They’re something you care about more than yourself, and therefore the only thing that will make you cooperate!”

“Cooperate with what?!” Ford yelled desperately. “You’ve won! You left the nightmare realm, you’ve brought chaos and destruction to our world! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!”

The triangle growled, and his outline briefly reddened. “You haven’t figured it out yet? My buddies and I can’t escape the barriers of this town! We haven’t won anything, not as long as we’re stuck here!”

Ford blinked.

_ Wait...so that means Gravity Falls’s natural law of weirdness magnetism applies to him, too? ...And it doesn’t just draw him in, it  _ traps _ him here? _

“...Fascinating.”

Bill’s eye rolled. “Of course you’d say that. But for us, it’s NOT fascinating! We want out, and I know that you know a way to make that happen!”

“How-”

“Stanley saw it in your journal!” He hovered closer to Ford. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was, though, no matter how much I tried to persuade him.” It didn’t take a genius to guess what he viewed as ‘persuasion.’ “So I’m glad you got here; it potentially makes things a lot easier!”

Ford had seen where this conversation was going a mile away; his heart sank nonetheless at the realization that he was about to be forced into a truly impossible choice.

On the one hand, there was no way he could give Bill the equation. He and his minions would destroy the world and the millions of innocent lives that inhabited it, making it as much of a ruin as the Nightmare Realm. And it would be on Ford’s head for giving them the means to do so. But if he didn’t tell him, then he would have to watch Bill slaughter his family. The very idea was unthinkable. It would save the world...but it wouldn’t be a world worth living in anymore.

But even if he gave Bill what he wanted, there was no guarantee the capricious demon wouldn’t just kill them anyway in order to torment Ford...and then keep him alive in order to prolong his suffering...or spare his family’s lives and torture  _ them _ instead, or-

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t come up with a solution.

He could barely even  _ breathe _ .

* * *

Bill cackled again, triumphantly.

“What’s the matter, IQ? No witty comebacks for me? No defiant yelling that you’ll figure out a way to stop me, or that you’ll never give me that equation? Geez, you must not be feeling well.” An old-fashioned mercury thermometer appeared in his hand, and before Ford could react he’d shoved it into his mouth.

Ford coughed and spluttered, spitting it out onto the floor. That only amused the demon more. Then he grew somber again.

“But seriously, Stanford-last chance. Give me that equation, and I’ll spare your brother and the kids. Or you can watch me kill old Goldfish right in front of you right now. Your choice.”

Ford tried to swallow, failed. His shoulders sagged.

“...You will let my family live? Neither you nor your minions will do anything to harm them, or-or let anything else harm them?”

Bill rolled his eye again. “Yeah yeah yeah, we’ll leave them in peace or whatever. Now gimme!” His hand lit up with that familiar, hateful blue fire.

Ford cringed ( _ I’m sorry, kids, I failed you _ ) and then-with the weight of defeat pressing down on him-he started to lift his hand.

And then two things happened at once.

The first was that Stan, who had been lying insensible right next to the throne, suddenly sat up, and grabbed onto one of the statues at the foot of the throne, pulling it free; seconds later the entire thing began to collapse, as all the frozen people came to life at once.

The second was that the wall burst open, and McGucket’s robot stuck its head inside, roaring at the top of its artificial lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I am occasionally guilty of using deus ex machina once in a while.


	16. Once more, with clarity

Fiddleford hadn’t been able ta sleep.

More specifically, he hadn’t felt comfortable tryna sleep in the house which he’d spent so much time tryna make himself forget, after-after what happened in the basement. Even though he knew it was pretty much the safest place in town right now, he kept...rememberin’ things he wasn’t ready for jes’ yet.

So he’d slipped out to do more work on the robot, an’ jes’ try an’ calm hisself down.

For the first time in nigh on thirty years, Fiddleford was thinkin’ clearly.

More important, he  _ knew _ he was thinkin’ clearly.

It was more’n a little jarring, after so long not bein’ able ta think, but...it felt good, consciously rememberin’ things besides how ta build giant killer robots an’ that his name was Ole Man McGucket and he had a son named Tate who didn’t want nuthin’ ta do with him.

Sometimes, though, he wished he could go back ta hidin’ in the foggy spots between memories like he used ta do; it was what he did whene’er it got a mite too scary.

But he couldn’t do that no more. He had a job ta do, and by gummity he was gonna do it fer the sake o’ these poor kids who needed his help.

Fiddleford continued with the modifications he’d decided to include on his latest brainchild.

He’d lost hisself in tinkering for quite some time, down by the tentacles, when he suddenly heard the front door of the house opening.

Fiddleford looked up at the security camera, and saw Ford, of all people, creeping off the porch an’ inta the woods.

He knew the look on his face all too well; it was the “Stanford’s about ta do some fool thing” look.

Fiddleford quickly scrambled down the hall to the elevator, but by the time he’d got to the control room, Ford was already vanishified into the woods.

He had an inkling of where he was headed, though. And Fiddleford made up his mind ta go after him and make sure he came back ta the kidlets in one piece.

Because Stanford Pines might be the most contrary, bullheaded idjit on this our God’s green earth...but he was  _ their _ contrary, bullheaded idjit.

As quickly as he could, Fiddleford powered up the robot, and went stomping away towards the giant black peer-amid.

He ran inta a bit o’ trouble with a few critters, but them modifications Ford’s boy had suggested worked like a charm.

* * *

For a while, Stan was allowed the mercy of being unconscious.

When he finally came back to himself, to his surprise he was lying down on a hard surface, and his chains were gone.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t been through before, so for a while he just stayed still and quiet, and slowly let himself become familiar with his surroundings.

Sure enough, he could hear people talking nearby; as he swam back into consciousness Stan recognized one of them, and immediately slowed his breathing as much as possible, keeping himself limp.

No way did he want  _ him _ knowing he was awake just yet.

“...never give me the equation? Geez, you must not be feeling well.”

There was a spluttering sound, and a small clink.

Stan dared to open his eyes a crack, just enough for him to peer through his lashes. And saw a familiar head of gray hair standing there ( _ What the heck is he wearing? _ ), with Bill hovering over him and gloating.

_ Oh, [CENSORED]. _

Stan’s eyes darted to the left, and he realized that he was lying next to the big statue throne or whatever the triangle called it.

During the time when Bill had done (things he wasn’t letting himself think about right now), he’d also supervised that thing being put together...said something about one of them having to be the “load-bearing human”...he thought maybe it was Tyler, but wasn’t sure...

He tuned back in in time to hear Ford asking, “...Neither you nor your minions will do anything to harm them, or-or let anything else harm them?”

Bill made an annoyed sound. “Yeah yeah yeah, we’ll leave them in peace or whatever. Now gimme!” He stuck out a blue, flaming hand.

And Stan saw Ford beginning to lift his arm.

He did the quickest math he’d ever done in his life, and created a simple equation: Ford + Bill + handshake + blue fire =  **_BAD_ ** .

So, ignoring his own pain, Stan forced himself to sit up and yank Tyler free in one swift motion.

Seconds later, the throne began falling apart as everyone came to life. And a few seconds after that, a T. rex burst its head through the wall and roared.

...By this point Stan was only a little bit surprised by random unexpected turns of events.

So he just got the rest of his way to his feet, and staggered towards Ford, grabbing him by the arm and diving into the panicked crowd.

“How do we get outta here?!” he demanded over the confusion as he pulled them as far from Bill as he could get; he managed to get a dark thrill out of the triangle’s outraged yell at the realization that his prey had vanished.

Ford gave him a bewildered stare, but then finally pulled himself together. “Go towards that!” He pointed quickly to the dinosaur.

Stan stared at him in disbelief. “You mean the  _ new _ thing that wants to kill everyone?”

“That’s not-it’s McGucket! He built a giant robot!”

_ Whoa. The kids weren’t kidding when they said he was building those. _

Several of the people around them overheard, and ran towards the dinosaur head in a mass exodus.

Bill screeched in fury, and began sending blasts of magic into the crowd, turning people back into lifeless statues.

“GET BACK HERE, STANFORD! WE WERE ABOUT TO MAKE A DEAL!”

“Don’t even think about it!” Stan growled, only shoving Ford faster.

They made it into the dinosaur’s mouth; Stan barely had time to think,  _ You’d better be right about this, Ford _ , before the dark twerp in the skinny jeans came diving in, and then the jaws snapped shut.

* * *

Ford heard Bill’s outraged scream, and felt the outside of the robot shake violently as something struck the outside of it. A second later Bill’s voice came again.

“WAIT, WHAT?! NO, NO, NO!!!!”

More thuds occurred, sounding like he was...pounding on the hull?

_ What’s going on? _

Ford pushed his way through the crowd of people to the elevator, pushed the up button. When the doors opened he hurriedly pulled Stan in after him, and waited anxiously as they began to rise. He felt more rumbling and pounding going on, but it wasn’t enough to knock them off balance. And then it felt like the robot started moving…

Ford checked his brother over again in the dim green light, and saw that whatever adrenaline rush had helped him dissolve the throne and get Ford moving had worn off; now he was slumped against the wall, looking like any second he was about to fall over.

“...Are you hurt?” Ford asked anxiously.

Stan shrugged. “Bill fixed up the worst of it before you got here.”

...That was not overly reassuring.

Without meaning to, Ford said what had been lurking in the back of his head.

“Bill told me that you said I wouldn’t come for you. That’s not true, is it?”

Stan’s shoulders tightened, and his gaze wouldn’t meet Ford’s.

“...Stanley?”

His fists clenched.

Ford’s stomach plummeted. “You thought I wouldn’t-”

_ That I don’t care if you live or die? _

“You never have before. Not unless ya wanted something. I didn’t see any reason for that ta change now.” Stan finally gave up trying to stay on his feet, and sank down to sit on the floor. “But hey, I get it. It’s not like I’m worth saving.”

* * *

The elevator finally came to a stop, and the door slid open.


	17. Karma's a b...ummer sometimes

There was a phrase for how badly Ford had messed up.

It wasn’t one you could get away with using on a Y7 channel, but he was definitely thinking it as the door of the elevator opened.

And the worst part was that there was nothing he could say in his own defense about the charges laid against him.

Stan groaned, but slowly pulled himself to his feet, ignoring Ford’s offer of a hand up and staggering out into the control room.

The knot in Ford’s stomach grew tighter; his mouth clenched grimly as he followed him out.

They found Fiddleford sitting at one of the panels, gleefully cackling as he pulled levers and pushed buttons. Ford’s brain idly noticed that he was somehow operating one of the levers using his beard, and wondered if Gravity Falls’s weirdness had caused it to become prehensile somehow. But then he was distracted by what was going on in the windows that were the robot’s “eyes.”

They had moved outside the Fearamid, and the robot was slowly walking backwards, some of the tentacles occasionally swatting different monsters out of the sky.

Bill, grown to giant size, was pounding on the top of it with his fists (which he had suddenly grown dozens of), but it was barely having any impact at all. It was almost like-

Another fist landed against the robot’s snout, and this time Ford caught the violet light that sprang up around it.

“...You put a protection spell around the robot?” he asked in amazement.

Fiddleford grinned. “The kidlets tole me how ya make that thing, and then Ah found a few o’ them unique-corns wanderin’ the forest lookin’ fer shelter, so I made them a deal that they could stay in here an’ be safe, _if_ they let me have some o’ their hair! And Ah integrated it inta the wiring so it’ll be pretty durn permanent!”

Ford blinked. “...That’s impressive, Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford waved a hand. “Aw hush, that ain’t nuthin’ compared ta what Ah’m about ta do next!”

He tugged on a chain, and suddenly the dinosaur’s head lurched forward, and sank its fangs right into Bill’s eye!

Stan lost his balance and went staggering backwards; Ford grabbed him before he could smash into the wall, and tried to help him keep his balance as, to his shock, the robot yanked Bill’s eye right out of his body.

The demon screeched, a wild unearthly howl that sent a chill of primeval terror running down Ford’s spine.

“AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHH MY EYE!!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES TO REGENERATE THAT?!?!?!?!”

Fiddleford twisted the steering wheel, and the head shook back and forth a few times, before hurling the eye away. Then, while Bill was still preoccupied, it turned and ran.

* * *

Stan yanked his way out of Ford’s grip at last.

“Leggo, I’m fine!” he snarled.

The fact that he practically fell into the nearest chair, and then rubbed his shoulder with a quietly pained hiss, said otherwise, but he had made it clear that Ford’s presence was unwelcome, so he just let him be.

“Bill is going to come after us,” he told Fiddleford.

“Yup! But at least we got both o’ you back in one piece, and all them other folks too!” The inventor pushed a button, and the robot let out a triumphant-sounding roar.

“Uh, Bill ain’t the only one comin’ after us,” Stan abruptly rasped. He pointed out the window, at the horde of monsters that were now thundering towards them.

Fiddleford clenched his jaw, and hunkered down over the controls like a racecar driver.

“When I say, one o’ you push that big red button!”

Ford saw it was by Stan’s elbow, and that his brother had already noticed it. He looked understandably apprehensive, but gave a resolute nod.

A periscope abruptly lowered from the ceiling, and Fiddleford peered through it.

“Thirty...twenty...ten-NOW!”

Stan’s fist slammed down on the button.

A few seconds later the robot raised its tentacles into the air. Ford realized, after a moment, that they had started crackling with electricity.

The creature with 8-Balls for eyes didn’t realize it in time to avoid slamming right into them.

The other henchmaniacs gaped for a moment, as their comrade shrieked and his skeleton became visible, in true cartoon fashion. Then Fiddleford pressed more buttons, and one of the tentacles raised-and a streak of lightning smashed into the giant purple monster who had just gotten into their way, before throwing the 8-Ball one off towards the Fearamid. Then they picked up speed again.

Fiddleford whooped with insane joy, and twirled his hat over his head in true cowboy style. “That’s how we Tennessee folk do it, ya salt-lickin,’ iconoclastic carpet-baggers!!!!”

Ford couldn’t help smiling at the reminder of how much he’d missed hearing his friend’s wide and varied vocabulary of Southern-style insults.

He glanced at Stanley to see how he was holding up. To his alarm, he...well, he looked like he was trying his hardest not to throw up. He’d gone pale, and his knuckles had gone white from how hard he was gripping one of the arms of his chair. After a few seconds, though, he visibly collected himself, and shook his head a few times.

Ford nearly asked if he was all right again, except he knew the answer would probably be, “I’m fine, leave me alone,” or something to that extent.

It made his stomach hurt again.

* * *

When they made it back to the house, Ford was relieved to see that it was still standing. He was less relieved when he saw his niece and nephew come rushing out onto the porch, looking absolutely frantic.

Stan immediately struggled to his feet. “Kids!”

For the first time in years the brothers were in complete agreement: they hurried to the elevator that would take them down, and waited impatiently for it to lower itself.

“Ah don’t think ever’one’s gonna fit in the house!” Fiddleford said as he joined them. “Might be better fer some of us ta stay in here. There’s plenty o’ rooms down in the lower levels-”

“That’s fine, Fiddleford,” Ford interrupted, “Just get us out of here!”

“A’right, a’right…” Fiddleford pressed the lowest button. “Jes’ wait for me ta get the mouth down ta ground level so there won’t be no broken necks!”

There was a loud rumbling, and then the entire robot lowered itself to the ground. A few seconds later the elevator followed suit.

They were forced to wait for everyone else to rush out; once the exit was clear, though, Stan hurriedly staggered over the giant tongue and hopped over the teeth. As soon as he touched the ground, though, he was nearly knocked off his feet again by two miniature cannonballs.

“GRUNKLE STAN!!!!”

Ford noticed the pained gasp his brother made, but it only lasted for a second or two. Almost at once Stan was laughing and hugging the children back as he knelt down to gather them more effectively, sounding a little choked up as he said, “Geez, it’s like ya little gremlins missed me or somethin’!”

A few seconds later Soos and Wendy came barrelling out the door and joined in on glomping their employer. Soos, in particular, started bawling loudly, enough that Ford looked around nervously and drew his gun in case the sound attracted predators.

Fortunately, though, after a minute Stan said, “Hey, ya mind if we take this inside? My legs are fallin’ asleep.”

Immediately he was released, and Mabel and Soos started dragging him inside and fussing over him, trying to talk over each other as they expressed concern for his physical well-being, with Wendy in their wake.

Dipper, however, stood up and slowly turned to glare at Ford. Even though he was just a child, he found himself swallowing with nervousness.

“...I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Ford said softly. “And I thought that I could destroy Bill now, and put an end to all this-”

“And _did_ you?” the boy asked softly.

Ford flinched. “No. He-he destroyed the quantum destabilizer. But-”

“AUGH!” Dipper threw his hat on the ground in frustration, and then straightened up to give Ford a look that was almost a snarl. “You couldn’t stay here and work with us for ONE. HOUR! Maybe if you had, we could have come up with a solution that would help us to save Grunkle Stan AND end Weirdmageddon!”

“I-”

“INSTEAD, you had to go and almost get yourself KILLED! And oh look, now we’ve lost the ONLY WEAPON we had that would give us a chance of destroying Bill!” The boy dug his hands into his hair in frustration, thin chest heaving with the strength of his fury. “Sooner or later, probably sooner, Bill’s going to figure out where we are and then put a blockade around us or something! Eventually we’re going to run out of food, and then _starve to death_ , and it’s _ALL YOUR_ -”

Dipper finally seemed to hear the words coming out of his mouth, and froze. He looked horrified, but not enough to take the words back. He stared up at Ford for a second, jaw flapping, before finally he snatched up his hat and stormed off into the house.

* * *

Ford couldn’t help thinking, in an oddly detached way as he watched the door slam shut, that he was talented.

Without ever meaning to, he had managed to single-handedly alienate his entire family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry if I'm making Dipper more emotional than is in character for him.  
> I figure that the boy has been having a rough time recently, and it's cranked up his anxiety to pretty much its breaking point.


	18. Old man pain

It took some time to get everyone at least somewhat organized.

Mabel and Candy burst into happy tears when Grenda was discovered to have been one of the people to escape, and the three of them spent a few minutes glomping each other, before declaring that she would be staying in the attic with them. Dipper didn’t have it in him to complain about “not another sleepover.”

Blubs and Durland, who had not let go of one another’s hands since they found each other in the crowd, were happy enough to stay in the robot so the house wouldn’t get too crowded.

Robbie and Tambry and the rest of the guys had to promise several times that they would not vandalize the gift shop or play hacky-sack  _ anywhere _ on the premises before Stan agreed to let them stay.

Eventually, though, they managed to get everyone in a place where they would be more or less comfortable, with instructions not to switch from one hiding spot to another unless it was absolutely necessary.

Ford didn’t even try coming into the house.

Dipper felt a little darkly glad about that; he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his complicated feelings towards his great uncle right now. So instead he poured his attention into taking care of his other great uncle.

Stan told them he was fine even as he hobbled inside, but considering this was the first time they’d seen him actually  _ moving _ like a stereotypical old man since they came to visit, he could tell he’d been through something intense in Bill’s clutches. Especially because his suit was also all torn up, even worse than that night when they had to fight off zombies, and they could see spots of dried blood here and there on the cloth, as well as on his face. So Dipper grabbed his hand and towed him upstairs to the (somehow still functioning) bathroom, giving him a stern glare when he tried to object. Mabel and Soos quickly joined them, and helped get Stan out of his jacket, before they had him sit down on the toilet lid while they cleaned him up.

“...Grunkle Stan, what happened to you?” Dipper finally asked as he sponged off the last of the dried blood from around his lip.

“...Eh, you don’t haveta worry about me, kid.” Stan gave him one of his wide “Mr. Mystery” grins.

He realized his mistake too late, as all of them stared at him in horror. More specifically, at the fact that one of his eyeteeth had been visibly ripped out, and there was now a bloody gap in the corner of his mouth.

“Wha-your teeth-what-” Mabel stammered.

Stan quickly closed his lips back together.

Soos blinked. “...Wait a second. I thought you had dentures, Mr. Pines.”

“I did. But the triangle grew my teeth back.” Stan shrugged like that was no big deal.

Dipper, however, connected the dots. “...So that he could rip them out again?”

Stan looked down uncomfortably. “He...wanted me ta tell him some stuff. I told him ta shove it instead.”

All three of the children stared at him in horror.

Finally Mabel reached out and took his hand.

Stan’s hand closed around hers, and inadvertently trembled a little. “It’s okay. I didn’t tell him anything.”

“That’s not what we’re worried about!” Dipper looked him over anxiously. “What did he do to you?! Do we need to take you to the hospital, or-or see if there’s a doctor in the house, literally?!”

“No, relax, he healed up most of it!” Stan didn’t seem to realize why that was Not At All Reassuring. “It was-” Whatever he was about to say was cut off when he tried to straighten his back, and suddenly let out a hiss of pain while grabbing his shoulder.

The right one, specifically.

At once Dipper pulled apart the already-shredded pieces of his grunkle’s shirt around it-and had to suppress the urge to throw up.

The burn mark was as bright red and fresh as it must have been the day Stan had first been shoved back onto the console, and even without being a doctor Dipper could tell it had gotten infected.

Soos let out a horrified whimper when he saw it, and fresh tears welled up in his eyes.

“Heh.” Stan smiled mirthlessly. “‘S fine, ‘s nothin’ I haven’t gone through before.”

Mabel’s grip on his hand tightened. “Grunkle Stan…” Her tone was absolutely heartbroken.

Dipper straightened up.

“Soos, see if we have any antibiotics in the medicine cabinet.” He spoke in firm tones that would have impressed a drill sergeant.

Soos saluted, and opened the cabinet and began rummaging around.

Stan opened his mouth to object, but Dipper walked around until he was facing him, and jabbed a tiny finger into his chest. “You are going to let us fix you up, Grunkle Stan. After that, you are going to go to bed, and rest, and let us take care of you, because you have been  _ tortured _ , and tortured people don’t get to say that they’re fine when they’re not! Is that clear?!”

Stan stared at him with an expression that was somewhere between annoyance and awe...before meekly nodding.

“...You got it, kid.”

* * *

Thankfully, the robot was far larger than the average T. rex had been, even if you didn’t include the tentacles, so Ford was able to find a corridor far away from everyone else in which to hide.

He was not familiar with the concept of Sweater Town; if he had been, Ford would perhaps have referred to his current position as its close neighbor, Hoodie Ville. He had discovered that, while it was still true that the hoodie did not possess the aesthetic appeal of the flowing trench coat, it did give him something comfortable to curl up in while reflecting on what a dismal failure as a person and a family member he was.

Dipper was right, he thought bleakly, as he sat on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest like he hadn’t done since he first realized he’d made a terrible mistake and let a demon into his head.

Sooner or later Bill would find them, and while he wouldn’t be able to get inside the house or the robot, they would still be trapped like rats. Unless, of course, they wanted to just start an underground colony like in one of those post-apocalyptic book series Mabel had told him about. And even then, there was always the chance that Bill would eventually find them, and then capture them, and Ford would have to watch his family be slowly tortured to death unless he gave him the equation that would allow him to break free and destroy the world-

Ford’s breath was coming more frantically in his chest.

And even if Bill didn’t find them, they’d lost their only chance of stopping him for good, all because he hadn’t been willing to stay and come up with a plan with everyone else, because he was selfish and stupid and conceited-

He buried his face in his knees while his shoulders heaved pitifully.

Aside from the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders and a few small, hitched breaths, Ford was almost completely silent and still. Not because he cared whether or not anyone heard him; he was too far gone for that. It was simply an instinct gained from so many times of having to be quiet whenever it wasn’t absolutely necessary for him to make noise.

When he finally uncurled quite some time later, his glasses were a damp, fogged up mess, and there were damp patches on his jeans; his head throbbed, and his eyelids were red and heavy-looking, and even his hair was drooping miserably.

His knees twinged in protest at being kept in this cramped position for so long, so Ford stretched them out as he pulled his glasses off and wiped them dry on his hoodie. Once that was done and he’d cleaned his face off on his sleeve, he leaned his head back against the wall and let out a small, hopeless sigh.

The only chance he saw for getting his family to forgive him (even if it was just a little) was to figure out a new plan to put an end to Weirdmageddon. But what could that possibly be?

He was just putting his mind to work thinking about it, when a dumpy little figure in a by-now very tattered blue suit, with his hair no longer at its optimal white and shiny levels, sneaked into the hallway, and froze when he saw that Ford was there.

There was a brief pause as the two of them stared at each other.

And then Ford drew his gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford in the show: tough guys with soft centers, yes, but still very rarely seen to shed tears.
> 
> GF Fandom: Make 'em cry until they pass out, guys.


	19. Gideon is a no-sell, again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This story has turned out to be a lot longer than I expected.  
> I doubt any of you are really complaining, though.

Immediately Gideon let out a terrified squeal, and fell to his knees, raising his chubby little hands in supplication.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

Ford loomed over him. “Give me a good reason not to.” He had to ignore the itch in his trigger finger urging him to change the setting off of stun, reminding himself that this  _ was  _ a child he was dealing with.

“I-I can tell you everything I know about Bill! I read about him in this journal, and-” He was cut off by Ford barking out a harsh laugh.

“I’m the one who  _ wrote _ it, you idiot. There’s nothing in there that I don’t already know.” Despite that, he lowered the gun. If nothing else, because it just wouldn’t be sporting to shoot a nine-year-old, however evil, especially when he was defenseless and begging for his life. Even so, he didn’t relax an inch; he’d seen what Dipper wrote about this particular nine-year-old and what he was capable of.

Gideon was gaping at him now, with his little piggy eyes wide. “...You’re the Author?”

It was the same tone of awe Dipper had when they first met; Ford was mortified to actually find himself swallowing a lump in his throat. He chalked it up to his current emotionally compromised state of being.

“How did you even get in here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Gideon slowly got to his feet. “When Stanford-the other Stanford, I mean-”

“You mean Stanley.”

The child blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I am Stanford. My twin is named Stanley.”

Gideon visibly took a moment to digest this. “So all this time, Stanf- _ Stanley _ Pines has been livin’ in our town under a secret identity?”

For once this reminder did not fill Ford with anger or resentment.

“Yes,” he said wearily.

Gideon looked almost in awe again. But finally he went on, “...When Stanley pulled apart the throne, it broke me free from my cage too. And I sneaked onboard Old Man McGucket’s robot with the rest o’ the crowd.”

“Why?”

The child clasped his hands together pleadingly. “Cuz I was afraid of what Bill’d do to me if I stayed in his clutches any longer! I wasn’t able ta stop you people from rescuin’ Mabel, so he punished me by makin’ me do cute dances for all eternity! I couldn’t take it anymore! I had ta escape!”

“How very noble of you,” Ford deadpanned.

“Plus, I thought this might give me a better chance ta get close ta Mabel!” Gideon grinned, showing off his supposedly cute dimples. “I realized that she wasn’t ever gonna love me if she spent all her time trapped in a bubble and we never saw each other, but if we-EEK!”

In one swift movement Ford swept the boy’s feet out from under him, knocking him flat on his back; a second later he’d planted his shoe onto his chest. Once he was sure he had Gideon’s undivided attention, he began to speak, in a very flat, calm voice.

“There is something you need to have drilled through that thick, overly-gelled head of yours, child. It doesn’t matter how much time you spend in Mabel’s presence, or how much you claim to love her. She is never going to love you as long as you continue to be a cruel, selfish, insensitive little  _ petaQ  _ who constantly ignores her wishes and is unable to share her with her family.”

Gideon’s mouth started to open, but Ford wasn’t finished.

“And I doubt that she is likely to change her mind, considering  _ you  _ are the one who summoned Bill back into our world, which he is currently in the process of destroying.” Or at least this part of it, but still.

“I-I thought I could control him! I didn’t know everything he was capable of! I just thought he would give me power- _ please don’t kill me _ !!!!”

The terrified squeal arose from Ford inadvertently putting a little more pressure than he intended to down on his prisoner.

He’d just been caught off guard by hearing the excuses that came spilling out of his mouth, and how horribly familiar they sounded.

Ford quickly relaxed his leg a little, and took a moment to collect himself. Then he said, calmly, “If you ever try to harass Mabel, or anyone else in my family, again, or if I catch you attempting to ally yourself with Bill again, you will find out why many dimensions still tremble in fear at the very mention of my name.”

In at least one of them it was because he had introduced its inhabitants to the concept of mathematics, improving the economic system but at the cost of making school children’s lives infinitely more miserable; but there was no need to tell the little monster that.

Gideon let out a few petrified squeaking noises, before at last nodding. “Y-y-yes sir!”

* * *

Ford lifted his foot, and he scrambled out from under it crab style. His round face was dripping with sweat; one trembling hand reached into his jacket pocket. Ford’s hand instantly tightened on his gun, but all that was lifted out was a large silk handkerchief, which Gideon used to wipe his face.

It was mostly white, he couldn’t help noticing, save for an incredibly gaudy symbol in the middle of it that looked like a multicolored star with an eye in the center-

Wait a minute.

Ford knelt and quickly snatched the handkerchief; Gideon squawked out something indignant, but he paid no attention. He was too busy staring at the star...and remembering where he’d seen it before.

A flurry of other images flashed across his mind’s eye; pine tree, shooting star, question mark, goldfish, stitched heart-

“I know how to stop Bill.”

Gideon blinked as Ford numbly dropped the handkerchief back onto him, and lurched to his feet.

“Wait, what? What’re ya talking about-eep!”

Ford grabbed one of his shoulders and dragged him along as he hurried off to find Fiddleford.

He needed a lot of paper and a pen, right now.

And like it or not, he needed to keep Gideon close by, at least until he got this all sorted out.


	20. Breaking the cycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Fiddleford was sittin’ in the dinin’ hall with Tate, who’d finally gotten him ta settle down and git a meal in him. Things weren’t exactly perfect between them-he didn’t know if they’d ever be-but leastways after Weirdmageddon started an’ he’d saved Tate from some kinda lake monster they’d been talkin’ again. Kinda awkwardly dancin’ ‘round each other, mostly, but better’n nuthin’.

Anyhow, they’d split a can o’ chili, and were sittin’ together an’ eatin’ it, just bondin’ all quiet-like, when Stanford came thunderin’ into the cafeteria towin’ that little Gleeful kid what did all the fancy dancin’.

Stanford barely took a second ta collect himself before stormin’ towards Fiddleford and demandin’, “Do you have any paper?!”

Fiddleford blinked. “Uh-y’mean like fer the bathroom, or-”

“For _writing_ on! Parchment, a notebook, _anything_!”

“...I got a couple port’ble computers workin’.”

Ford made a noise like he’d got a big hunka phlegm in his throat, and then marched on out again, still draggin’ the kid.

For a mite few seconds there was silence.

Finally Fiddleford said, “Huh. Wunner what _that’s_ about.”

Tate shrugged. “Dunno.”

He took ‘nother bite o’ chili.

* * *

Ford stormed through the robot, asking anyone he could find for some paper, while at the same time searching for others who would fit into the Zodiac.

One of the two (unbelievably incompetent) policemen, the skinny one with too much Adam’s apple, gave him a flip notepad and a pen, and he managed to grab a few more papers from other people. Nothing as good as his journals would have been, but they would have to do.

Then he sat himself down in the first room with a table and chair that he found, forcing a thoroughly bewildered and unhappy Gideon to sit at his feet, and began to write.

It took him some time to figure out what exactly he wanted to say, and he had to waste a few precious pieces of paper beginning and starting over, but eventually he created something that he thought was coherent enough for all the parties he wanted to read it.

When he finished he got back to his feet, snatching Gideon up again.

“Hey!” The boy tried unsuccessfully to escape his grip. “Where’re we goin’ now?!”

“After I drop one copy off with Fiddleford-” Ford stormed back towards the dining hall- “to the Mystery Shack!”

He caught Fiddleford just as he was leaving the dining hall, and thrust some of the papers into his hands.

The inventor fumbled to catch them. “What-what the Sam Hill-”

“Read that. It’s important.” Without breaking his stride Ford headed to the elevator to make his exit.

Fiddleford adjusted his glasses, and looked down in bewilderment at the front page. It read, “Stanford Pines is an idiot: an extensive and thorough analysis.”

* * *

Ford peered around anxiously when they reached the exit; no eye bats anywhere, no monsters lurking in the trees as far as he could see. That wasn’t proof positive, of course, but he couldn’t feel that “being watched” sensation that his senses had honed to perfection after all these years, so at last he risked picking Gideon up, tucked under one arm like a pudgy blue football (he made some kind of protest, but Ford paid no attention to it), and sprinted to the house.

Much to his relief, the front door was unlocked; he slipped inside.

Where he was promptly slammed into the wall, as something long and sharp was jabbed into his throat.

A few seconds later, though, the pressure vanished, and a familiar voice said, “Oh, sorry. Thought you were a monster or something.”

Wendy backed up and lowered the giant kitchen knife she’d been holding.

Ford gingerly rubbed the spot under his chin, thankful that he’d been wearing his turtleneck; he dropped Gideon, who squealed and hid behind his legs.

Wendy looked down at him with a frown somewhere between confusion and distaste.

“Why’d you bring _him_ here?”

“I remembered that we have one last chance to destroy Bill, and we need him for it.”

Wendy’s gaze sparked with interest. “Wait, really?”

“Yes.” Ford pulled out a spare piece of paper, and showed her the drawing he’d scrawled. It had Bill’s image in the center, and was surrounded by ten symbols. “It’s a prophecy I discovered many years ago; ten people who are associated with these symbols, joined together, can form a mystic energy circuit that would be able to defeat him for good!” Without his meaning it to, Ford’s voice rose in excitement.

Wendy took the paper and squinted at it. Her eyes widened. “Whoa. My friend Robbie’s been wearing a hoodie with that heart shape on it since junior high. And-” She gaped as she looked the page over; presumably she’d noticed that several of these symbols were more than a little familiar.

Ford nodded eagerly. “We need to figure out everyone who fits into this-quickly, before Bill has time to strike again. Where is my family?”

Wendy winced, and lowered the paper. “...The kids and Soos are upstairs taking care of Mr. Pines. He’s...not doing so good.”

Ford’s jubilation vanished, and a cold feeling settled into his stomach instead. He took a small step forward. “What’s wrong with him?”

The girl looked down uncomfortably-such unusual behavior for someone so unapologetically blunt about everything did not help his rapidly growing concern. “Um. The triangle...he opened up a really bad injury he got in the past, and it’s gotten infected. They gave him some antibiotics but he’s all feverish and-”

She was talking to empty air-save for Gideon, who was now huddled against the doorway. He tried for a wide, sheepish smile; Wendy just glared at him meaningfully.

* * *

Ford froze just outside Stan’s door, and took a moment to listen.

He could hear Mabel talking, asking something about how fast antibiotics were supposed to work, should they be worried?

Dipper responded that Grunkle Stan had been through a lot recently, he deserved to sleep after everything he’d been through, it’d probably be fine.

There was a muffled sniffling noise, and the sound of a nose being blown.

Ford gulped, well aware that he was most likely the last person any of them would want to see right now-but he gathered his courage, and knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue the Detective Jigsaw cliffhanger of DOOM!  
> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
> 
> _Awkward throat clear ___  
> Sorry about that. Don't know what came over me.


	21. Only the penitent man will pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's the Thanksgiving season, figured I'd give you a two-chapters-for-one-day special.  
> Enjoy.

After a second the door opened, and Mabel poked her head out.

Ford felt his insides seize up, and then seize up again at the look she gave him. It wasn’t even an angry look, like he’d been half-expecting; it was just that her whole face suddenly went...blank. Devoid of any emotion at all.

Since Mabel was one of the most expressive and emotional people he knew, it might as well have been a sucker punch to the gut.

Ford swallowed nervously. “...How is he?”

Mabel looked down at the floor. “...He fell asleep just a little while ago.”

“Was he acting delirious at all?”

She shook her head. “No, but his forehead and face are pretty hot. Even more than his normal weird old man body heat thing. And we bundled him up in a lotta blankets cuz he keeps shivering.”

Ford smiled in faint amusement at her assessment; but then he asked seriously, “May I see him?”

Mabel hesitated.

“I have some experience in treating injuries; I might be able to help.” Of course, he didn’t have a medical PhD or anything, but he’d brought some useful medical supplies back from the multiverse that were down in the basement right now.

At that moment Dipper appeared in the doorway behind his sister.

Ford couldn’t help noticing that the glare the boy gave him, combined with the protective hand he placed on Mabel’s shoulder, made him look remarkably similar to Stan. He swallowed again, hard.

“...I have something for both of you.” He held out the second essay, which was basically the same as the first one except it had been tailored for the children, instead of for Fiddleford.

The kids looked at each other, and then Mabel reached out and accepted it.

Dipper looked over her shoulder; one eyebrow went up as he read the title. But it seemed to be enough to pacify him for the time being; he stepped back and allowed the door to open the rest of the way.

Soos was sitting next to Stan’s bed, just watching his boss with wide, anxious eyes that betrayed a fondness that went beyond professionalism. And as Ford came closer, he was finally able to get a look at his brother.

Stan was lying on his side, indeed wrapped in several layers of blankets, so only the top of his head was sticking out, like a hot dog sticking out of the bun. His eyes were tightly shut, and his bangs were damp with sweat. The children had meant well, but clearly they didn’t understand some of the nuances of helping someone through a fever.

“Keeping him wrapped up like that is just going to raise his temperature,” Ford said aloud, before going to Stan’s side and gently starting to unravel the blankets. Stan’s hands feebly tried to grab at them in his sleep, but he batted them down and kept working until there was only one quilt covering him. At least, he noticed, they had had the sense to have him stripped to his underthings, which would help cool him down. “He needs a damp washcloth for his forehead, and plenty of water to keep him hydrated when he wakes up. And down in the basement, there’s a small green case resting in one of the desk drawers. If one of you would go get it for me, I can probably use some of the contents to take out the infection sooner than any antibiotics. Where is the injury?”

For a moment there was silence, until Soos admitted quietly, “On his shoulder.”

_Oh. That means...oh._

Ford’s insides squirmed again. Gingerly he reached down and pulled back the blanket enough for him to get a look at it.

He could see that there was bandaging sticking out from under Stan’s undershirt; it had been somewhat clumsily applied, but it didn’t look too bad. He should probably still take another look at the actual wound. The _brand_ , if he was going to get technical about it. Specifically the brand that _he’d_ caused.

Vaguely Ford registered when Soos got up, and a few seconds later he heard him shooing the children out of the room, leaving him alone with Stanley.

* * *

For a few minutes he just sat in silence, looking at his brother.

Then Ford said softly, “I can’t tell if you’re actually asleep, or if you’re just pretending so you won’t have to talk to me.”

The latter seemed like a viable option; Stan wasn’t snoring at all, and as he’d proved in the Fearamid, he was very good at playing possum when he wished.

The limp form gave no indication one way or the other.

Ford lifted himself off his knees and sat down in the chair Soos had vacated, before sighing and leaning his arms on the side of the bed.

“I’m not surprised if it’s the second option. It’s been drawn to my attention lately that I’ve screwed up-well, everything.” His shoulders drooped. “I always thought that I was going to accomplish so many great things and make my mark on the scientific world...but in the end, all I made was a mess. I fell for Bill’s easy flattery, and gave him everything he needed to come here and bring Weirdmageddon raining down on our heads, and if it wasn’t for the barriers keeping him in Gravity Falls he probably would have already laid the world to waste. Then I went and lost the weapon I created which was supposed to get rid of him, because I didn’t take enough time to think things through. And at the end of the day all I have to show for it is that my family hates me...and it’s entirely my fault.” He was mortified to feel his throat closing up again, and had to take a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe raggedly.

When he felt calmer, Ford lifted his head again. His gaze landed on Stan’s fez, which was sitting on the bedside table. Recollection stirred.

“...I figured out another way to defeat Bill, though. Something that’s probably our last chance at stopping him for good-a prophecy that was etched on a cave wall. The only problem is-” He paused, and groaned a little inside. “The only problem is that I need your help for it, and using it so soon after I saved you-it will probably feel like it’s just confirming...your belief that I’ve only ever come for you when I wanted something.” Ford’s lip trembled, and he bit down on it. “...because that’s basically what I did, isn’t it? I ignored you for ten years over something that didn’t even _matter_ in the long run, and then when I’d exhausted all other options I expected you to come clean up my mess, and thought the solution when you were naturally upset by this was to start insulting you. No wonder-” his whole voice began quivering as realization seeped in- “you think...I don’t care.”

Ford slowly let his head drop onto his arms; his shoulders heaved again, and he couldn’t help releasing a few audible, pitiful sniffles.

_Well, Stanford, you’ve done it now._

_Karma’s come to tap you on the shoulder, and you’ve ruined everything, you stupid b-_

He was startled out of his despondency by the feeling of a big, callused hand gently carding through his hair.


	22. The trial of Stanford Pines, part 3

Stan’s eyes were bright and unnaturally glassy, clear symptoms of how feverish he was, but they stared back at Ford clearly enough when he raised his head, so at least his temperature probably wasn’t high enough to be dangerous. His expression turned to a troubled frown when he got a better look at Ford, and then the hand that had been stroking his hair lowered to his cheek, and his knuckles gently brushed away some of the moisture from under his eyes.

Ford sniffed, and cleared his throat awkwardly, before straightening up. “Ha. I knew there was a chance you were awake.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Where’re the kids?” he croaked.

Part of Ford wanted to go along with the obvious subject change...but another, stronger part felt it was vitally important that he not do so. “How long have you been awake for, Stanley?”

Stan shrugged, as best he could while still bundled up. “Never got the chance ta fall asleep. Besides...not sure my dreams are a great place ta be right now.”

Ford translated this as: “I just spent the last few days being tortured by Bill, and I’m pretty sure that trying to sleep will just result in my having a lot of nightmares.” He cringed in sympathy. “Right, right.”

For a second they sat there in awkward silence. Then Stan took a turn at clearing his throat, before saying in a voice that was still pretty raspy, “I don’t think the kids hate ya. They’re just...kinda upset with ya.”

Ford wasn’t sure there was that big a difference, but decided to let it go for the time being. “What about you? Do  _ you  _ hate me?”

He wouldn’t blame Stan if he did.

Stan looked down at the bed uncomfortably. Then, finally, he whispered, “...I sometimes wish I did. Maybe then...it’d hurt less. Knowin’ that no matter what I do, nothin’s ever gonna be good enough ta fix everything I messed up for you. Cuz Dad was right about me all along: I’m a worthless screw-up.”

* * *

The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry or upset when he said it: he just sounded...resigned. Resigned and tired.

Ford unexpectedly felt his fists clench. “Stop saying that about yourself.”

“Why should I?” The flat tone was unchanged. “It’s the truth.”

“ _ How _ is that the truth?!” Ford demanded.

“If I wasn’t worthless, then I wouldn’t’ve messed up! If I wasn’t worthless, it wouldn’t’ve been so  _ easy  _ for you ta throw me away in the first place!” Stan started to sit up, but then whatever energy had buoyed him up left as quickly as it came, and he sagged back down against the pillow. He shivered, and his hand snaked around to rub at his sore shoulder.

Ford had to bite down hard on his lower lip for a few seconds to calm himself, think about how to approach this. It should have felt good to hear Stan acknowledging that he had hurt him...instead it was like getting the world’s biggest wasp sting in the heart.

It wasn’t helped at all by Stan whispering, “...Sorry. I know I got no right ta complain, after what I-you called me here, and it was just ta send me away again, and I got mad, but I  _ never  _ meant ta-”

“Stanley, would a worthless man have let Bill torture him rather than give away the secret to letting him escape the confines of this town?”

Stan blinked. “...Is this a trick question or something?”

Ford gave him a look of fond exasperation. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No.’”

Stan didn’t seem to understand the cue; he just stared back until Ford sighed.

“ _ No _ , Stanley. A worthless man wouldn’t have been able to defy Bill like you did. A worthless man wouldn’t have spent thirty years trying to bring his horrible brother home.” Which, admittedly, had still been reckless...but that suddenly didn’t matter right now. Maybe it never should have as much as he thought it did. “A worthless man wouldn’t have inspired so much love from his grandnephew over the course of one summer that I had to stop him from charging to your rescue when Bill first captured you.”

Stan’s eyes widened in alarm, and Ford felt the guilt rise again, considering how incensed Dipper had been by the action. But finally Stan just snorted. “Crazy kid probably would’ve gotten himself killed.”

Ford relaxed. “That was the outcome I was afraid of, yes.”

Stan looked a little hopeful...but it died as quickly as it had come.

“I still ruined your life.”

He started to look away, but was stopped by Ford catching the edge of his chin with one hand, tilting his head back up.

“I ruined my own life, Stanley,” he said solemnly. “Building the portal and then not disassembling it when I had the chance was my own fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

Stan’s eyes glistened in a way that was far too shiny to just be the fever. “...You could also argue that it was the dumb triangle’s fault for bein’ a lying jerk.”

Ford managed to smile. “The children have said more or less the same thing.”

“Well, you oughta  _ listen  _ to ‘em, knucklehead.”

There was one more thing that Ford felt needed to be said, at least for now. In the back of his head he wondered what was keeping the children; surely medicine and a damp washcloth weren’t  _ that _ hard to find.

“What you said earlier wasn’t true, Stanley. You  _ are _ worth saving. You’ve always been worth saving.” He just hadn’t let himself realize it sooner.

Stan looked a little bewildered at hearing him say such things; Ford just rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, avoiding the burn as best he could.

“It’s okay if you’re having a hard time believing that right now. We can work on it. I’ll keep saying it to you until you believe it.”

“...You’re gonna sound like a bit of a broken record, then,” Stan muttered.

“If that’s what it takes, then I think I’m okay with that.” Without his intending it to, Ford’s hand came up in the universal gesture used to signify a high five.

Or in this case, a high six.

* * *

Immediately Ford felt that he’d gone too far.

After everything he’d done to Stan, and the way he’d rejected his attempt at this the last time, he had no right to offer such a thing. It was too soon, there were still so many raw wounds both of them were still nursing, he should just lower his hand  _ right now _ and pretend he’d been about to scratch an itch or something-

A palm lightly tapped against his, before the fingers threaded through his so tightly it hurt, as Stan’s shoulders trembled under the blanket and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to subdue his rising emotions.

It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's schmaltzy at the end.  
> They've earned it.


	23. Soosian interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy December, everybody.

Soos had wanted to stay and eavesdrop with the twins ( ~~and get some more material for his fanfiction~~ ), but decided that instead he should go get the stuff that’d make Mr. Pines better.

Hurriedly he headed down to the basement.

Most of the people (and, Soos noticed, even some manotaurs, gnomes and other critters) were down on the third level, with makeshift campsites set up here and there, even around the dismantled remains of the portal. A few of them had even lit campfires, and some of them were toasting food over them. It smelled awful good...but for once Soos was not allowing himself to be distracted by _anything_ , least of all food.

He had to maneuver his way through a few groups before he reached the desk, and when he reached it he found some kids from town playing some kind of tag game around it and had to maneuver around them so he could start searching the drawers.

“Whatcha doin’?” a little girl asked, peering out at him from under the desk.

“Sorry dude, can’t talk right now-on an important mission.” Soos began opening and closing drawers at random-until finally he found what he hoped was the right thing.

It was a green box, about the size of a small book, with a small seam running across the sides but no discernible method of opening it, aside from a little spot that looked a little like a fingerprint scanner.

Quickly he snatched it up, shoving it into the pocket of his shorts, and began picking his way towards the stairs.

* * *

When he got back upstairs Soos made a beeline for the kitchen, where he grabbed a washcloth that he dampened in the sink (somehow, maybe because of the unicorn voodoo, they still had running water), and then filled a glass, before hurrying back upstairs with these items in hand.

The kids were still crouching in front of the door to Mr. Pines’s room where he’d left them; Mabel was kneeling, and Dipper was leaning over her shoulder.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” Soos asked breathlessly, trying not to fumble the glass out of his hand.

Their heads turned to him in unison; to his surprise, their eyes were swimming with tears.

“...Dudes? Is everything okay?”

Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat and wiped his eyes on his arm. “Uh-yeah, sorry. I just-”

“They’re finally talking!” Mabel whisper-squealed. “They’re talking, and not fighting with each other, and Grunkle Ford’s been fussing over him and it looks like they’re gonna make up! I’ve waited so long for this moment! ...And I didn’t think to look for my phone so I could record everything until it was already too late!” The last part came out as more of a disappointed wail.

“Aw dude, that’s rough.” Soos frowned at her sympathetically-and then all of them jumped in alarm when the door opened, and Other Mr. Pines stood in the doorway, giving them all a look like he was waiting for an explanation. Soos couldn’t help noticing that his eyes were conspicuously a little red-rimmed.

“Uh…” Soos held up the stuff. “I got what you wanted.”

“What about my med kit?” Other Mr. Pines took the washcloth and the glass from him.

Soos hurriedly dug it out of his pocket. “Boom.”

“Thank you.”

“Whoa; you _do_ know how to say that.”

As soon as he realized what he’d said Soos clamped a hand over his mouth with a horrified squeak.

A muscle twitched in Other Mr. Pines’s face; all he did, though, was finally just turn and head back into the room.

Soos and the kids tentatively followed.

To his relief, Mr. Pines was awake, and while he still looked pretty icky he also wasn’t dead. He was even partly sitting up out of the blankets, and adjusting his undershirt; Soos guessed his brother had taken a look at the burn for him.

Mr. Pines actually began trying to sit all the way up, before Other Mr. Pines came to his side and, after setting the glass on the table, pushed him back until he was leaning against the pillow.

“I’m not an invalid,” Mr. Pines complained hoarsely.

“Uh, by the very definition you _are_ , Stanley, since you are literally feverish and weak.”

Mr. Pines glared at him and grumbled something indiscernible.

Other Mr. Pines wrung out the washcloth a little-apparently Soos had made it a little too damp, oops-and laid it against his brother’s forehead after pushing back his bangs. Then he turned towards Soos. “The kit, please.”

Soos stepped forward and handed it over, hoping the promptness would make up for his previous mouthiness; Other Mr. Pines didn’t react one way or another, he just pressed his thumb over the fingerprint thingy, and a few seconds later the box opened with a soft, sci-fi style hiss that made Soos’s “coolness” alert go off like crazy.

Inside were a series of little multicolored bottles that were labelled in a language Soos wasn’t familiar with (and he prided himself on knowing Japanese, for crying out loud, so that was kinda frustrating). Other Mr. Pines lifted out one that was bright green, and painstakingly unscrewed the cap, before pouring a couple of drops of whatever was inside into the glass and then handing it to Mr. Pines.

“Once that’s been mixed in enough, I expect you to drink all of it,” he ordered.

Mr. Pines made a face. “If it tastes anything like the experiments ya tried feeding me in high school I make zero promises,” he muttered.

“Stanley, don’t argue with me!” A note of sharpness entered Other Mr. Pines’s voice-before the irritation in his expression faded as quickly as it had come, and changed into something a little pleading. “...Please. I just want to get you better as quickly as possible.”

Mr. Pines stared down awkwardly...before at last giving the glass a little shake and watching the green stuff that had been added to it expanding.

So. Things weren’t exactly perfect between them.

But they were working on it. And the fact that _Dipper_ had been crying tears of joy was enough to make Soos hopeful for their future.

* * *

Speak of the devil, he decided to make things a little easier for Mr. Pines: he produced a (clean, I swear) popsicle stick from one of his pockets, and offered it to him.

“You can use this ta stir it up, Mr. Pines.”

His boss raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you always carry those around with you?”

“You never know when you might needa stir something, or build a really tiny decorative fence,” Soos explained solemnly.

For once, Mr. Pines didn’t roll his eyes at his logic; in fact, he gave what almost could be called an amused smile, before accepting it and stirring the contents of his glass. When he was done he laid it on the bedside table next to his fez, and then took a sip.

“Huh. Not as terrible as I thought.”

“The medicines of other dimensions are often a great deal less disgusting than ours,” said Other Mr. Pines. “These in particular came from one that tends to make them taste like jellybeans.”

Mr. Pines snorted. “Why am I not surprised.” He sipped at the drink again.

The kids perched at the foot of the bed next to their uncle’s feet, watching him with anxious eyes as he finished up the medicine. Once he’d done so he handed it over to Other Mr. Pines, and then abruptly yawned.

“It puts you in a dreamless sleep for about twenty minutes while it takes care of infection,” Other Mr. Pines said.

“...Which you conveniently forgot ta mention _before_ I drank it,” Mr. Pines muttered. But he snuggled down under the covers, twisting onto his side again.

Mabel scooted around until she was able to lean into his side and give him a loud kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay, Grunkle Stan, just take a nap, and when you wake up you’ll be all better.”

“You better be right about this sleep bein’ dreamless,” was the last thing out of Mr. Pines’s mouth before he started snoring.

Other Mr. Pines reached down and removed his brother’s glasses, neatly folding them and setting them down on the table. Then he started closing up the med kit.

His fingers slipped and he had to fumble to stop it from sliding off his knees when Dipper abruptly said, “We need to talk, Great Uncle Ford.”


	24. The trial of Stanford Pines, part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, the chapter where Dipper and Ford finally come to a better understanding of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Exhausted gasping ___  
> Well...I did it. I finished turning in the last papers for finals week, and applying for my capstone next semester. Now I can work on this in comparative peace without needing to worry so much about burning myself out.

Ford froze up for a moment, before finally saying, “I gave you the essay to read.” A second later he closed his eyes, looking annoyed at himself.

Dipper just scooted around until he was sitting directly across from him. “I know. But...we’re all here right now. And there’s some stuff I have to say.”

Ford looked down uncomfortably, but at last nodded and turned his gaze back to Dipper. The way his spine straightened made him look a little bit like he was getting ready to face his own execution.

Despite his firm words, at first Dipper was unsure how to start. He looked down at his hands, gathering his thoughts and idly noticing that he seemed to have developed quite a few scrapes and bruises on his arms over the last few days which he hadn’t even noticed. Then, just like at the trial in Mabeland, the words came to him.

“Do you remember when Stan first got captured, and you stopped me from trying to save him?”

Ford looked grim, but nodded. Mabel made a disgruntled sound.

Dipper leaned forward. “You told me that I didn’t stand a chance against Bill, and it wouldn’t have done Grunkle Stan any good if I got myself killed.”

“...In retrospect, not the most tactful thing I could have said,” Ford admitted quietly.

“Ya  _ think _ ?” Mabel asked. Dipper elbowed her.

“Yeah, but you...were right.” As much as he hated to admit it. “Trying to charge out and attack Bill head-on, all on my own, was a bad idea. I meant well, I wasn’t thinking about anything but saving Grunkle Stan...but most likely he would have just captured me too, or-or turned me to stone, or eaten me or something, and it all would’ve been for nothing.”

He saw in Ford’s face the moment when he connected the dots on where Dipper was going with this. The old man’s shoulders hunched, and he sighed.

“I’ve had far more experience with fighting Bill than you have,” he said softly. “And I had the quantum destabilizer-”

“And look how well that turned out.” A few days ago Dipper wouldn’t have  _ dreamed _ of talking back to the Author like this. He wondered when that had changed. “Great Uncle Ford, the rules apply to you too about thinking before acting, and trying to stay safe. I know that…” he shuffled uncomfortably, “you’ve spent a lot of time having no one to look out for you, so you’re used to fending for yourself and trying to handle everything yourself. And old habits die hard. Believe me, I know all about that.  _ And  _ I know you wanted to protect all of us. But-” he lifted his head- “you can’t do stuff like that anymore. It’s not just that you don’t have to. We-” he pointed to himself, Mabel, Grunkle Stan and Soos- “literally  _ need _ you to not do that. We need you to stay here and work with us and figure out a plan that we can do  _ together _ .” His fists clenched a little. “Okay? No more suicidal heroics, because if anything happened to you-”

To his horror, Dipper felt a lump starting to grow in his throat. He tried to swallow it, ineffectively, and was mortified at the relief he felt when Mabel scooted until she was at his side, wrapping her arm around him.

As for Ford…

Ford looked a little like he’d just been sucker-punched in the chest. Or like there was a lightbulb of sudden realization going on in his head. Dipper thought about mentioning that nobody else knew Bill like Ford did, and that was another reason why they needed him to stay, but decided against it. He’d made his point.

At last Ford swallowed, hard, and nodded.

“All right, my boy. No more suicidal heroics. I promise.” He started to hold out a hand in a position for shaking, before making an uncomfortable face and awkwardly turning it into an offered fist bump.

The kids both giggled, and after looking at each other for confirmation they slid off the bed and, ignoring the outstretched fist, wrapped both their arms around him.

Immediately Ford stiffened, and for a second Dipper worried that he’d made a bad call because maybe he didn’t like being touched after so much time in the multiverse, maybe he should have just returned the fist bump-

Ford’s arms encircled both of them, squeezing tight enough to almost take Dipper’s breath away, and he felt his uncle’s chin resting on top of his hat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gathering them both close.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel reassured him. “You’re here now, and after we kick Bill’s butt you and Grunkle Stan are gonna finish making up and hug it out and live happily ever after.”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “It probably won’t be that simple, but I admire your confidence.”

Behind them, Dipper heard Soos sniffle, and then the click of a phone camera being used. He decided to let the handyman have this.

* * *

When he finally pushed them back, Ford reached into the pocket of his hoodie (he really seemed to be getting used to that thing) and pulled out a folded slip of paper.

“As for getting rid of Bill...I think I can help with that.” Slowly he began unfolding it. “I found this picture many years ago, in the same caves where I found the method of summoning Bill.”

“You’d think someone would know writing that down where anyone could read it was a bad idea,” Dipper mused. Then he glanced at his uncle guiltily. “...Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s a valid point.” Ford spread the paper out so they could all see the picture.

It was of Bill, in the middle of a circle surrounded by ten simple pictures. Dipper gasped when he recognized the pine tree on his hat, and the shooting star on Mabel’s favorite sweater, to say nothing of the six-fingered hand, the fish shape from Stan’s hat, the question mark on Soos’s T-shirt...the list went on.

“If we can find all ten of the people who these symbols represent, the painting said that together they could form a mystic energy circuit that could put an end to Bill forever.” Ford’s eyes were becoming bright with excitement. "I just need a lot of space somewhere, and a-a lot of paint or something.”

“My craft supplies are still in the attic!” Mabel said brightly.

“Perfect!”

Then Ford looked at them guiltily.

“I know that...I have let you both down in my more recent attempts to put an end to Weirdmageddon. So I don’t blame you if you have reservations about this plan. All I ask is for you to give me one more chance to make things right.”

This time the twins didn’t need to look at each other. They both nodded in almost-unison.

“Of course we will, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford beamed. “Thank you.”

“Whoa, you said it  _ again _ !”

“Knock it off, Soos.”

“Sorry.”


	25. Your glasses are in another castle

It was a no-brainer to realize that all the people in this room were part of the Zodiac, because their symbols were right there for everyone to see. Ford wrote their names in the correct spots, and then, after Mabel hurried up to her room to grab her paints, he and the children went to search the rest of the house for who else would fit the symbols, while Soos stayed by Stan’s side in case he woke up.

* * *

Wendy and Gideon were still in the living room-to Ford’s surprise, so were a broody-looking teenage boy dressed all in black (perhaps Wendy’s friend Robbie, since there was a red stitched heart on the front of his hoodie) and that blonde girl-Pacifica, Mabel had called her-who was wearing one of Mabel’s spare sweaters with a llama on the front. The former child psychic had somehow developed a black eye and a fat lip in the thirty minutes or so that Ford had been gone, and was now sitting pouting on the floor like a baby sumo wrestler. Robbie was on the other side of the room, rubbing his shoulder and glaring daggers at the younger boy. Wendy was leaning against the wall, but in such a way that she was strategically placed between the two of them, and Pacifica was perched on the dinosaur skull cleaning her nails and ignoring all of them.

Ford raised an eyebrow. “...Has something been going on in here?”

“No,” all four of them said more or less at once, wearing the kind of innocent stares that immediately indicate people are secretly guilty of something.

“Guess what, though, dude,” Wendy quickly said. “I found two more people that’re part of the Zodiac for you.” She indicated Robbie and Pacifica.

Ford blinked. “Oh. That-good job.”

Wendy smiled smugly at him.

“Whoo, go Wendy!” Mabel cheered, pumping her fists.

Ford looked around for a place to draw the full circle on-the living room, however, did not provide adequate space, plus it was covered with a carpet. Quickly he turned on his heel and strode for the kitchen. The group of curious children followed him-which was actually perfect under the circumstances.

“Help me move these,” he commanded, indicating the furniture.

Wendy snatched up two chairs and carried them on her shoulders out to the living room; Dipper and Mabel immediately turned the table onto its side and began trying to fold the legs. Their faces twisted into literally twin expressions of surprise when Pacifica stepped in to help.

She glared when she saw how they were staring at her. “What? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get rid of that big yellow jerk and I can go back to living in my mansion!”

Dipper smirked at her. “I’m gonna translate that as Northwest for ‘you’re welcome.’”

Pacifica rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Whatever.”

_...So she’s a Northwest. Hmm. She seems to have turned out a somewhat better person than that obnoxious Preston child. _

* * *

Once the kitchen was cleared, Ford took out Mabel’s paints.

He was somewhat put off by the fact that all of them seemed to contain glitter, sparkles or some other aspects of shininess, but at last he selected a tube of slightly more subdued purple that only seemed to have the occasional twinkle, and got to work painting the symbol onto the floor.

“We still need to figure out who the two final symbols represent,” he said aloud as he worked.

“I know…” Dipper clicked a pen in frustration. “Who the heck do we know who has an ice symbol?”

“It doesn’t have to be literal, Dipper,” Ford said. “It might just be someone who’s good at remaining cool under pressure, or has a high tolerance for colder temperatures. Or who’s cold-hearted, but preferably not that one.”

He looked up, and saw that everyone’s gaze had turned to Wendy.

She blinked. “...What?”

“Yeah, that’s definitely you,” Robbie said. Then he backtracked quickly. “The first one, about you being cool under pressure. And cool in general.”

She snorted and punched his arm. “Good save, Robbie.”

He laughed awkwardly, before rubbing his arm. “Ow.”

“What about the glasses?” Mabel asked, looking at the drawing.

Ford got started on the inner circle. The whole Zodiac was a bit cramped due to the size of the kitchen, but he thought it would do. “They could represent someone wise...but they could also just represent someone who wears glasses. Or both.”

“Way to narrow it down,” Wendy said dryly.

Ford froze.

Wait a second.

Glasses.

Wise.

It wasn’t necessarily the first description that would come to mind when you saw him, but he’d been able to see the truth when Ford couldn’t, and he always quintuple-checked his equations-

“We need to get Fiddleford. He’s the final part of the Zodiac.”

A second later he was knocked over by a rumble that sent him sprawling face-first into the hand symbol, and came up with his glasses and the lower part of his face covered in a soft purple sheen.

“Uh,” Wendy looked out the window, “that could be a little hard right now. It looks like they found us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, okay, I let the other shoe drop.  
> I couldn't help it; it would be too boring if everything went right for them all of a sudden.


	26. Accept no substitutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to prove to you that I haven't forgotten this story.

_ Oh, ow. _

_ Everything hurts. _

Stan returned to consciousness slowly, enough to realize that he was lying on his side with his face squashed into his pillow, and that the floor was shaking. Huh. Maybe it was an earthquake; did they get earthquakes around here? It’d make sense if they did, since they were close to California.

Also, Stan realized that his shoulder was feeling better today; that was a nice change from normal. Maybe the infection was finally clearing up, so he could get back to work. That dumb portal wasn’t gonna fix itself, after all.

Just thinking about it made his stomach squirm, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in...uh...what month was it? Just kidding, he knew what month it was, quit staring at him like that. And he’d eaten  _ plenty  _ of times.

Kind of.

Stan opened his eyes slowly, ready to get up and face the day, and realized that the world was even more of a blurred mess than usual.

_ Ugh, maybe I should just get glasses already-I wonder if I can steal the right prescription- _

There was a pair of big glasses lying on the table in front of him, the kind old people wore.

Stan was just reaching out for them, when a big brown hand unfolded them and placed them on his face for him, as a voice said, “Here, let me get that for ya, Mr. Pines!”

“Thanks, Soos,” Stan muttered as he adjusted them-and then everything came back to him.

_ Oh. _

_ Right. _

_ The apocalypse. _

_ Getting rescued from the triangle by a giant dino-bot, after going through stuff-that-I’m-tryin’-not-ta-think-about. _

_ Ford...kinda-sorta admitting he was wrong, about...a lotta stuff? And kinda sayin’ that he cares? Or at least-being upset that I thought he didn’t? _

It was a bit much to process right now. Stan settled for rubbing his hands over his face and asking his handyman groggily, “What’s goin’ on?”

Soos shrugged. “Sounds like the evil triangle dude or his minions found us.” He shivered a little. “And gonna go out on a limb here and guess that he’s  _ not _ happy.”

Stan’s stomach clenched into nervous horror at the memories of what it was like when the triangle was “not happy.”

_ Easy, Stan _ , he reminded himself.  _ He can’t hurt you anymore, not when you’re in here surrounded by unicorn voodoo. You’re safe. _

As you might expect, it was no help at all.

Regardless, Stan forced himself to sit up, and then crawl out from under the blanket and stand up.

His shoulder still hurt, and his legs trembled a little trying to hold up his weight, but he could tell whatever that green stuff was had fixed up the worst of it, and at least the hot-and-cold feeling was gone. Even so, he staggered a little before Soos caught his arm and loosely pulled it over his shoulder.

“Easy, Mr. Pines. I got ya.”

“I can walk, Soos,” Stan protested, even as he snatched up his fez and plopped it down on his head. Somehow the action, and the feeling of the hat, made him feel a bit more secure.

Soos ignored the protest, and held him up while he shuffled his feet into his slippers, before walking him towards the door and into the hallway.

* * *

They made their way downstairs, a journey more precarious than normal thanks to the loud tremors that kept rocking the house back and forth. As soon as they were on the ground floor, Stan got a glimpse out of one of the windows of the reason why.

McGucket’s robot was in the middle of a fierce battle with what appeared to be every demon Bill had brought to this dimension, and somehow they were all even bigger and uglier than he remembered.

Maybe it was because he’d watched too many superhero movies with the kids, but Stan could almost hear dramatic action music playing as blows were thrown back and forth between monsters, and blood-chilling roars split the air. The dino-octo-whatever that thing was supposed to be called was giving as good as it got, lashing out with its tentacles at different monsters, smashing them into each other and shooting them with more electricity at random times, and keeping them away from the house as best it could...but it was still ten against one. As someone who’d had those kind of odds stacked against him before, Stan knew that it didn’t matter how good of a fighter you were, you would eventually get tired, and while the other guys did too, at least  _ they  _ could take breaks and get replaced by their buddies. And McGucket was a pretty old, mortal guy, even if he was also pretty spry for his age, going up against a bunch of immortal monsters.

_ Hope Possum Breath had time ta teach the other people in there howta work that thing, just in case. _

“Grunkle Stan! You’re awake!”

Dipper and Mabel came rushing out of the kitchen, both of them looking him up and down anxiously. “How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt? Do you think you can stand in a circle with nine other people holding hands with them for a long period of time?”

“...You lost me, kid.” Stan still wrapped his arms around them when they pulled him into a quick hug, before they each grabbed one of his hands and towed him (with Soos still hovering at his side, watching him anxiously) towards the kitchen.

As they went, Mabel explained quickly, “It’s part of that thing Grunkle Ford was talking about, how we can get rid of Bill for good! It’s part of this old prophecy called the Zodiac, where if ten people who represent these different symbols all stand in a circle holding hands they create a thingy that’ll get rid of him!”

“A mystical energy circuit, Mabel.”

“Yeah, that thing.”

Despite himself, Stan began bristling when his brother appeared in the kitchen doorway. But he stubbornly reminded himself that things were kind-of-sort-of okay between them now; besides, they could waste time fighting later, after they did this mystical energy thingy.

...Which, honestly, sounded a little hinky to him, but it wasn’t like they had any better options.

“What’s this mystic thingy gotta do with me?” he asked, looking at his brother, and noticing that he had purple paint on his face for some reason.

Ford was scanning him with anxious eyes; after a second he seemed to hear the question, and cleared his throat.

“You’re part of it, Stanley. That Order of the Holy Mackerel fez-the fish symbol is one of the ones used.”

Stan blinked. “...I genuinely didn’t see that coming.”

“See for yourself.” Ford took his arm (oh for cripes sake, did none of these people remember that he was capable of walking by himself?!) and pulled him into the kitchen. To his alarm, it was mostly filled with teenagers and pre-teenagers. Also, there was a big painting in the middle of the floor.

Stan squinted at the symbols. A lot of them were definitely familiar to him, including, as Ford said, the Holy Mackerel symbol.

_ Huh. Guess I’m good for something after all. _

_...Hopefully that stuff’s not permanent, otherwise it’s gonna be hellish ta clean off the- _

_ Oh. Wait. At the end of the summer it’s not gonna be my problem anymore. _

“There is one small caveat,” Ford said aloud, startling Stan out of his thoughts. “We don’t have Fiddleford, and he’s the last one we need.”

Stan groaned. “Of course he is.”

His twin dug a hand into his hair. “We’re going to have trouble even  _ contacting _ him and letting him know we need his help, let alone somehow getting him inside without potentially giving any of Bill’s chaos in-”

“What if we tried using someone else who’s smart and wears glasses?!” Mabel piped up. “Like a substitute!”

Dipper gave her an exasperated look. “This is a spell, not a cake!”

“No, that-that might actually work,” Ford interrupted. “We can certainly at least try.”

Mabel’s eyes lit up in delight. “I know just the person we can use! Wait here!” And she dashed out of the kitchen.

“While we wait for her, everyone else find your places!” Ford ordered. “We need to be ready!”

Slowly, everyone began stepping onto the (not completely dried) painted circle, into the spots indicated.

Stan found himself wedged in between Soos and Ford; in other parts of the circle, Dipper stood beside Wendy (looking surprisingly less lovestruck than he’d been at the beginning of the summer), Robbie stepped up to Ford’s other side with an awkward glance at the old man, and Pacifica stood uncomfortably between two empty spaces.

Gideon let out a delighted gasp as he stepped into his spot. “Oh, look! I get ta stand beside where Mabel’s gonna be, how nice-!” He cut off with a frightened squeak when he saw the looks both Stan and Ford were giving him, and fixed his gaze on the floor.

_ Good choice, ya little maggot. _

A minute later, a heavily panting Mabel came rushing back into the kitchen, towing her little Korean friend with her. Specifically, her Korean friend who wore big black glasses.

“Candy Chiu, reporting for duty, SIR!” she barked, coming to attention and saluting when Ford’s eyes landed on her.

He looked a little surprised, but said, “Very well. Get in the right spot, hurry!”

The two girls quickly scurried to their squares on either side of Pacifica.

“Everyone, hold hands!” Ford ordered. Then he glanced at Stan, and with an expression that was almost shy, stretched out his hand to him.

Stan hesitated for a small second...before taking it.

* * *

As he did, a soft white light sprang up around them, encircling their whole bodies with a sharp tingling sensation and from there latching on to the people on either side of them as they joined hands in turn. Above their heads, a circle of clouds began to appear against the ceiling, crackling with thunder and lightning and making the hair on Stan’s arms stand on end.

Once again, he realized that he was in a situation in which he probably should have taken the time to put on pants first. But it was too late now, and at least none of the kids seemed too emotionally scarred by seeing him in his underwear-oh geez, that was coming out wrong, wasn’t it, shut up brain-

The light wasn’t attaching itself to Candy.

It had wrapped itself around Pacifica and Mabel just fine, but it wasn’t connecting to her. She released each of their hands and tried again a few times, closing her eyes and scrunching her face up into as fierce an expression as she was capable of. Nothing happened.

_...Shoot. _

At that very moment, there was a crashing noise from upstairs that sounded like one of the windows smashing in.

A second later, a horrifying, familiar, nasally voice from outside shrieked,  _ “ENOUGH!!!!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear.  
> Oh d-d-d-d-dear dear.


	27. Thank goodness for apology letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter includes Bill at his nastiest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this _beautiful _fanart of gold!Stan by halfthehuman on tumblr: https://halthehuman.tumblr.com/post/637325027137716224/fanart-for-the-wrong-stan-detectivejigsawpines__
> 
> _  
> _(incoherent squealing with excitement)_  
>  _

For a moment Ford just stood there frozen, as his last hopes sank down into his shoes. They were swiftly replaced by cold, raw terror, because Bill was there, and the Zodiac wasn’t working, and he didn’t know how to stop him without it-

Numbly Ford let go of Stan and Robbie’s hands, and made his way to a window, opening the blinds enough to peek out.

All the monsters had stepped back to a respectful distance, forming a circle around the Shack. When he looked to his right, he saw that Fiddleford’s robot was lying prone on the ground, with one of the tentacles curved upwards and the tip having apparently smashed through one of the upstairs windows. And Bill was hovering right in front of the building, resting his shrimpy hands on the top of his cane.

It was a scene not too unfamiliar from all those times he had shown up in Ford’s dreams in order to offer “insight” and “helpful advice,” except with a few crucial differences.

For one thing, the little monster was not so little anymore; he had grown almost as big as the house, so even his tiny limbs were about as thick around as one of the children. He had also completely changed his color scheme to a demonic red-and-black, and if he looked closely Ford thought he could see that the usually baby-like fingers had changed into sharp, curved claws, which drummed on the top of the cane in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

It was not at all reassuring to see Bill’s appearance finally reflecting the madness and cruelty within.

“I know you can hear me, Stanford!” the triangle said aloud, giving his cane an ominous twirl. “And I sure hope you’re watching me, because I’m done playing nice and waiting for you to cooperate with me willingly!”

He snapped his fingers; seconds later, a cluster of about twenty stone statues floated into view.

Ford didn’t know who they were, but he heard someone at his side gasp, and saw that everyone else had clustered around him to peer out the same window.

“Mom!” Robbie whispered, staring up with horrified eyes.

“Lazy Susan!” Mabel cried.

“That dude who married a woodpecker!” Soos wailed. “And he said they had finally started marriage counseling!”

“Looks like I got a few toys left, Stanford, despite you and your brother taking all the rest of them away! So if you don’t come out and give me that equation, I’m gonna start _PLAYING_ with them, until they’re all _BROKEN_ !” Bill’s form did a full-body shiver, as if he were struggling to stay in control for just a little longer. “And then, if you STILL haven’t come out, my buddies and me are gonna figure out a way to break through that stupid barrier of yours, and when we do we’re gonna kill everyone in the house one by one and use their corpses to play Jenga, and then if you STILL won’t give me that equation you’re gonna have to watch your family _get sliced into tiny pieces and fed to each other_!”

He took a moment to let the threat sink in, before saying in a softer, more ominous tone, as he hovered closer to the house, “But not you, Stanford. I won’t hurt a single fluffy hair on your head, not until everyone else in this stupid town is gone. And even then, I’m gonna keep you _alive_ until you give me _what I want_.”

His eye seemed to burn right into Ford’s for a second, before he pulled back, and returned to his normal shade of yellow.

“Or you can just come out right now and give me the equation and spare yourself and the rest of this town a lotta unnecessary pain and suffering! Your choice!”

* * *

The despair Ford had felt back in the Fearamid was like a giant ice cream sundae compared to the emotion that nearly sent him plummeting to his knees right now.

The worst part was that he knew Bill wasn’t bluffing. He could and would do everything he promised, and probably more if it tickled his fancy, unless Ford surrendered himself and let him into his mind.

Swallowing down the choking terror, he straightened his back, and started to turn towards the kitchen door.

Three sets of hands at once grabbed his arms.

“No!”

Ford tried to struggle free, but Stan and the children’s grips were surprisingly (or maybe not; they _were_ Pineses, after all) stubborn.

“Let me go!” he ordered. “You heard what he said!”

“You really think he’s not gonna just kill us all anyway?!” Dipper demanded, digging his heels into the floor as best he could. “You can’t trust him to keep his word! We gotta think of another way!”

“Yeah!” Mabel agreed. “Bill makes bad deals!”

“C’mon, maybe we can-” Stan struggled for words- “maybe we can bluff him somehow, or we can switch clothes and _I_ can go out, or-”

“Or mebbe we can quit stallin’ and complete this Zodiac doohickey already!” said Fiddleford.

* * *

Everyone jumped about a foot in the air when they realized that the hillbilly was standing in his spot in the circle, beaming up at them.

“What-how the-where did you come from?!” Ford demanded when he finally found his voice.

Fiddleford shrugged. “Ah built an emergency exit on one o’ mah robot tentacles. Luckily it was the one that broke through yer window, or I an’ mah crew never woulda been able ta sneak in here without Cipher catchin’ us! An’ I read your essay earlier, Stanford, and saw this scribble-fied on the back o’ one o’ the pages with notes about who ya thought might be needed ta make it-” he gestured to the Zodiac- “an’ somethin’ in me said it was important fer me ta come be a part of it. So here I am!”

Ford wanted to either sob with relief, or pull his old friend into a hug. However, his common sense reminded him that they were on a bit of a deadline, helped by the sound of Bill’s voice calling out, “Last chance, Stanford!”

“Everyone, quickly!” He gestured urgently to their spots in the circle, and the group of people hurried into them, joining hands again. Pacifica looked a little askance at the realization that she was going to have to take Fiddleford’s hand, but she did so without complaining.

Ford’s eyes closed, and he squeezed Stan’s hand (idly noticing that even after all this time, it was still a perfect fit). _Please please please let this work we have no more options I can’t fail again the whole world is at stake please-_

And then he began to tingle all over, as he was engulfed by the white light.

The glow leaped from person to person, until it had made its way all around the circle.

As it reached the final person, the entire circle filled with light, in a bright pillar that shot straight up, and went out through the roof of the Shack.

Bill, who had gotten tired of waiting and snatched the statue of Mr. Poolcheck out of the air, ready to turn him back to a creature of flesh and blood so he could start the torture, was blown back in shock.

“Whoa, _WHAT?!_ ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THEY CAN’T HAVE-”

The light began to shape and form itself, until standing there was a figure the likes of which none of them had ever seen before.

* * *

It was about fifty feet tall, with a mane of long, flowing hair that was a different color in every lock: white blonde, dark brown, black, gray, red, gold, brown again. On top of its head was an enormous red fez, with the Order of the Holy Mackerel symbol glowing brightly at the front, and its eyes were covered by giant green glasses.

It was hard to tell if the face was supposed to be male or female, or just a little of both; there was a flowing white beard, yes, but the features could easily pass for feminine. Either way, its expression was one of grim determination as it stared directly at Bill, and took a step forward. Despite its size, it walked right through the house like a ghost, leaving no damage behind.

The creature was clad in pale gray armor from neck to feet, which seemed to be composed of different symbols that kept flickering in and out of sight as it moved. Shooting stars and stitched hearts appeared on and off around its chest, while images of ice kept glowing in and out of sight on the gauntlets covering its six-fingered hands. And as it moved, it drew a sword practically as tall as it was from the scabbard on its back; if you looked closely, you could see that the handle was carved to look kind of like the body of a llama.

Inside the Shack, the group of people still stood in the circle, clutching each other’s hands; tendrils of white light flowed from the tops of their heads, connecting to the giant spirit warrior outside as it squared up to do battle against the demon and his army.

Candy hurriedly opened all the blinds so they could get a good look.

Soos stared at the scene before him open-mouthed, with stars practically glimmering in his eyes.

“All my most glorious anime dreams are coming true right now,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not sure if this was too cheesy an idea for the mystic energy circuit or not.  
> But come on, who _doesn't _want a totally BA kaiju fight to happen right now?__


	28. Attack of the Zodiac Spirit Warrior, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to epic action music in order to fully experience the next two chapters, such as "The Touch," by Stan Bush: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qDAoJIJ2ljU
> 
> I hope everyone who celebrated it had a good Christmas.

To his credit, Bill rallied pretty quickly.

“DESTROY THEM!” he screeched, pointing to the house with one trembling finger.

After a second of hesitation one of the henchmaniacs, the one that was a giant set of false teeth with limbs, rushed forward, yelling at the top of its nonexistent (?) lungs.

Before it could get far, a giant gray foot slammed into its path.

The spirit warrior glared down at the mammoth dentures, and then slashed its sword in one swift movement.

Seconds later the creature fell apart into two separate halves, which quickly shattered into fragments of gross flesh-colored light and disappeared.

The other henchmaniacs hadn’t signed up for this.

They’d come to this dimension expecting to freely commit wanton destruction, and be able to bully and dominate (and subjugate and mutilate-basically a lot of -ate’s) anyone who got in their way to their heart’s (or whatever the equivalent organ was for some of them) content.

They hadn’t signed up for something that was capable of not just fighting back, but actually  _ killing  _ them.

Keyhole was the first to take a few steps of retreat. Hectorgon and 8-Ball were next, slowly edging backwards, trying to be nonchalant about it.

Before they’d gone too far, though, the ground under their feet burst open, and a surge of violet lightning forked through the air around them.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!”

Bill hovered before them, his single eye blazing with rage.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK  _ YOU’RE  _ GOING?!”

“B-b-but boss, they’re-the prophecy!” Keyhole stammered. “They’re the ones destined to defeat-”

“Prophecy?”

The really scary part was how abruptly Bill stopped yelling, and his voice became one of deathlike calm. The only indication of the level his rage had reached was the faint red glow that began pulsing around him.

Keyhole shrank back, stammering incoherently.

“You think I worry about things like  _ prophecies _ ?” Bill demanded, voice slowly rising in stridency with each sentence. “You think I can be  _ beaten _ by things like prophecies?  _ Me _ ? I’m the master of nightmares! I tricked our way out of that  _ dump _ we were stuck in, and gave us a whole new world to conquer! I’m bigger than  _ any _ kind of stupid pro-”

Bill was startled out of his tirade by the feeling of a hand tapping his shoulder. He turned around in surprise-and was instantly sent flying through the air.

* * *

In the Mystery Shack, Ford gave a grin of savage satisfaction. He couldn’t  _ begin _ to describe how good that had felt.

His knuckles tingled as if he had struck the blow himself; judging by everyone else’s expressions, they were experiencing the sensation too. Gideon in particular let out a small pained whimper, and started to loosen his chubby little grip around Mabel’s hand.

“No!” Ford ordered. “Do  _ not  _ under any circumstances break the circle!”

Gideon immediately tightened his hold.

“Bad luck if anyone hasta pee before this is over,” Stan muttered.

Ford elbowed him in the ribs, but couldn’t help the tiny smirk that stole over his face.

Outside, the giant purple henchmaniac let out a roar, and charged at the warrior, making the ground shake as it moved. One gorilla-like hand raised and thrust forward, ready to snatch them in its fist and crush it-but the sword slashed, chopping through the creature’s flesh like butter. Then, just as quickly, the blade swung around and blocked a blow from the pink, fiery cyclops.

“I am  _ so _ glad my dad made me take fencing lessons now,” Pacifica muttered.

Dipper gave her a look that was (for once) genuinely in awe. “You get to take fencing lessons?”

She shrugged. “We’re rich; we do stuff like that.”

Part of him wanted to snark that some people might argue stuff like that was actually kind of nerdy-but he decided it could wait.

The pink creature was presenting more of a challenge; she (?) had increased her size to match the warrior in height, and she dodged the next strike of their sword before matching it with a blast of pink fire from one of her palms; just in time the symbol of ice appeared on the warrior’s gauntlets again, and a wall of ice sprang up around them that blocked the flames.

Then, from behind, the purple bread loaf thing lurched up from its prone position. One arm was missing, replaced with a blackened stump, but it doggedly rose, and lurched up onto its hind legs with a roar, before swinging its other arm like a club at the warrior’s unprotected back.

Before it could make contact, the glow of a multicolored star appeared on their armor, and then it burst outwards, enveloping the beast in its light. It struggled, but couldn’t break free, or even move.

Slowly the warrior turned, and plunged their sword into the center of the loaf; seconds later, the beast had disappeared, same as the giant teeth.

* * *

The cyclops shrieked in fury, gnashing her broken fangs, and her fists enveloped themselves in flames. Seconds later she lunged forward, swinging them at the warrior’s face. They barely dodged in time to escape her attack-except that their sword was knocked from their hand and went skidding across the grass.

The cyclops grinned, and lunged again; the warrior dodged, and was forced to retreat backwards to avoid the onslaught of fists.

Back at the house, both Stan and Ford were grimacing in concentration, remembering everything they’d learned from boxing and all the times in their adulthood when they’d been forced to use it for their survival. The old stories and muscle memory quickly channeled themselves along the pale threads that connected them to their champion, into its brain and its hands and feet.

The Zodiac warrior ducked and weaved, barely avoiding the demon’s attacks as they tried to maneuver around and get the sword back. Fortunately the ice fists were still working in keeping the fire from doing too much damage...but the work of creating them appeared to be taking its toll on Wendy. Her hair was damp with sweat, and Ford could see her knees starting to tremble.

“Guys, we need someone else to take over!” Dipper cried.

“I’m fine, I can handle it-” Wendy started to mutter through gritted teeth.

“Mabel’s turn!” his sister proclaimed with gusto.

Abruptly the warrior raised their hand, palm out; it began to glow, and suddenly a bright light, trailing a purple, orange and green tail, came bursting out, smashing into the cyclops’s eye.

She shrieked, and both hands flew up to it; that gave the warrior the chance they needed to leap to the side, and dive for the sword. Right on time-the demon with the 8-ball eyes had been slinking close, with one hand outstretched.

The pink demon stumbled blindly in their direction with a demented roar; just in time their hands closed around the handle, and they rolled onto their back, blade pointed upwards.

There was a crunch, and a final, plaintive shriek.

Then the demon faded away to join her friends.

Slowly the warrior got to their feet, brandishing the sword (which didn’t flash like it would in the movies, because there was no sunlight to reflect off the blade, just the dull red glow of the sky; but that didn’t make it any less menacing), and gave the rest of the henchmaniacs a challenging stare.

...They decided they weren’t willing to share the fate of their friends, and quickly rushed away across the wasteland.

* * *

Everyone at the Shack whooped and cheered.

“Take  _ that _ , you big jerks!” Robbie yelled, grinning. “That was the best way to work out some of my teenage aggression  _ ever _ !”

Ford looked at him gravely. “Don’t get too excited. We still have to deal with our final opponent.”

“Translation: we’re in the Boss Level,” Soos said in the closest he could get to a solemn voice.

_...The what? _

“He means we gotta beat Bill,” Wendy said, seeing Ford’s expression.

Who, at that exact moment, came crashing through the trees towards them, in perfect Boss Level form.


	29. Attack of the Zodiac Spirit Warrior, part 2

Bill had gone back to his previous red and black color scheme.

He had also sprouted several extra arms, and the different sections of his pyramid had split into two sets of gaping mouths, with ogre-like yellow fangs and grotesque black tongues jutting from them; the latter of which writhed hungrily in the air as he burst into the clearing.

Incongruously, his monstrous form still included his little top hat and bow tie. Ford wondered if maybe they were just a natural part of his old “friend’s” physical form, or if he’d just forgotten about them in his wrath.

Either way, somehow their presence made Bill a little more horrifying.

The spirit warrior barely had time to brace themselves before the demon charged at them, snarling with fury, more like a crazed animal than his normal-well, not exactly _dignified_ self by a long shot, but he had definitely been more restrained with his craziness in the past.

Now, however, his attack knocked them off their feet, and they barely managed to dodge away from the swipe of one of his hands and slam one of their boots right in his eye.

Bill shrieked, and another hand lashed out at them blindly; before it could make contact, the warrior’s beard wrapped around his wrist and yanked him off balance, sending him crashing into the trees.

Fiddleford whooped triumphantly, and did a little jig in the middle of his spot in the circle.

“Take THAT, ya ugly geometric disaster!”

The warrior got back on their feet, just in time for Bill to come lunging at them, two hands at once curving themselves into long, jagged claws. They raised the sword just in time to block the attack, but were shoved back, with their boots digging deep furrows into the earth in a frantic effort to regain purchase.

Just as they were about to smash into the front of the Mystery Shack, the warrior let go of the sword’s handle with one hand, which covered itself with a fresh layer of ice, and sent a fierce left jab right into Bill’s face.

Pieces of shattered teeth pinged off their armor, and the demon let out a high shriek of pain and rage.

The warrior took a staggered step back, and lifted their sword to chest height, before driving it right toward his eye.

Just before the tip of the blade could make contact, though, a glowing yellow light sprang up, which it _clanged_ off.

Undeterred, the warrior adjusted their grip and tried again.

* * *

In the Mystery Shack, ten people concentrated all their life’s thoughts and experiences (up to and including what they’d learned from movies and video games) into fighting the triangular behemoth.

Pacifica focused on everything she’d learned from fencing, even though the heavy claymore-like sword the warrior was using was far different from the graceful épée she favored in combat.

Stan and Ford used every dirty trick in the book (and even a few they came up with on the spot), such as at one point gaining a little extra ground by bringing one of their heavy boots right down on Bill’s exposed foot or jabbing him in the eye with two of their six fingers.

Soos pretended that he was gripping the world’s biggest game controller, and used it to make the figure duck and weave to evade the attacks from Bill’s terrible claws and bursts of magic.

Wendy channeled her strength and anger into their fists as bursts of cold, merciless ice.

Gideon, showing surprising strength for his size and personality, created colorful versions of the star of telepathy and used them to block the demon’s spells, or send them flying back at him. That’d teach the isosceles monster ta make him do cute dances when he didn’t wanna!

Fiddleford wished fervently that he had his banjo, or somethang else ta hit the bas-(he remembered there were children present)...ketcase with! Instead he made do with the mighty big sword they were holdin’. A couple times he had the warrior hold it in their beard ta let the fists do their work, while all the while their eyes darted back and forth in their glasses, lookin’ fer an opening.

Robbie, without really knowing how he was doing it, used the power of the stitched heart to keep everyone’s energy flowing smoothly so none of them would weaken too soon, and they could all gain from the others. He’d never exactly been the heart of a group before, leaving that job to those who were better at caring about other people’s feelings and needs, but now he was the one forced to carry that burden.

Mabel urged all the fervent hope for the future she possessed, and even her childish enthusiasm and willfulness, into the strength of the shooting star. Magic flowed down the length of the sword, slashing and ripping through Bill’s defenses and hacking at him in an attempt to find a weak spot, to put an end to this monster who had hurt her family once and for all, so their world could have peace and happiness again.

Dipper gave all of them the strength and sturdiness of the pine tree, making sure they would not be knocked off their feet too easily and that they could take a hit and come back swinging.

None of them seemed to notice how exhausted they were becoming, or the long streaks of white starting to develop in some of their hair.

* * *

A little part of Bill, a part that he never wanted to admit existed, knew that even if he somehow won this fight against the Zodiac, he had basically lost.

His rule was crumbling to pieces around him.

He was trapped in this stupid town, and as much as he hated to admit it the dumb baby was right-the continued rip in this dimension, without a bigger world to sustain it, would soon enough undo the fabric of reality beyond even what _he_ was capable of enjoying.

He didn’t even have his henchmaniacs anymore; they’d all gone running off like cowards or been cut up by this big prophesied freak.

No matter what the end result was here, he didn’t have a chance of coming out on top.

Unfortunately, among the many things that Bill Cipher was not (human, mortal, a decent person, as funny as he thought he was, etc.), the phrase “a graceful loser” must be included on the list.

If he was going down...he would happily take everyone else with him.

And as he and the Zodiac kaiju battled their way back and forth, fighting and blocking hits and smashing a lot of trees into kindling in the process...he wondered if the humans realized the true implications of joining together to complete this thing, and how they could perfectly suit his desires if this fight went on for long enough.

See, the thing about creating a “mystic energy circuit” was that it couldn’t be sustained indefinitely, at least not if you were using non-magical mortals. Sure, the Zodiac’s power was still nothing to sneeze at, especially when created by people who had done and been through so much; but eventually-maybe it was even happening now-the spell would start to take its toll.

And since Bill was immortal, and a being of pure energy...well.

All he had to do was wait them out.

They couldn’t keep this up forever.

* * *

The first one to notice that all was not well was, oddly enough, Robbie.

He looked over at Wendy to see how she was holding up-and let out an alarmed sound.

She frowned at him in confusion, after wiping her forehead on her sleeve. “What?”

“Uh-Wendy-” he stammered awkwardly- “your hair-”

“What about it?” She twisted her head, trying to figure out what was wrong. She looked back at Robbie questioningly-and then she saw that one of his bangs had developed a distinct white streak, standing out from the black like a skunk stripe.

Worriedly she looked at the others-and sure enough, they all appeared to be developing it too. And realized the same thing must have happened to her.

Quickly everyone else began to realize the same thing.

Pacifica let out an alarmed cry, and nearly let go of Mabel’s hand in order to check her own locks-but remembered just in time why that was a bad idea. She let out a frustrated whimper, and muttered something about how if they survived, she was going to have to buy a _fortune_ in beauty products.

“Great Uncle Ford!” Mabel called worriedly, “What’s happening to us?!”

Ford grimaced. “It’s the spell! It’s starting to-dig into the deepest levels of energy we’ve got! But we can’t stop now! We have to focus!”

“Easy for you to say!” Robbie protested. “Your hair’s already gray!”

...But he shut up at the withering glare the old man gave him.

* * *

For a moment the warrior’s attention was taken away from Bill; it was all he needed to wrap his magic around them, lifting them into the air, and then hurl them away.

Then his monstrous form lunged over to the Mystery Shack, and pounded a fist on the dome that sprang up.

“KNOCK KNOCK!” he screeched gleefully, his voice far more unhinged than any of them had ever heard it before. “GETTING TIRED IN THERE?! WOW, IT’D BE AN AWFUL SHAME IF WE HADDA CUT OUR FIGHT SO SOON-”

He whirled around just in time to catch the warrior rushing up behind him, and lunged, carrying a ball of fire in one giant fist that smashed right into their chest.

In the circle, everyone gasped at the sudden burning pain, which nearly sent them to their knees, as their giant avatar was knocked to one side. Their form flickered in and out of shape for a moment as several grips nearly loosened at once, before managing to restore themselves.

They managed, thanks to Ford’s catlike reflexes, not to completely lose form and land in a decent stance, and retaliated with a swipe from their sword that Bill barely managed to block in time, but it took them a few seconds to get to their feet and return to fighting the demon blow for blow.

“Everyone stay calm!” Ford ordered, putting all the command at his disposal into his voice. “We can do this-we _have_ to do this! We’re _not_ going to let Bill win!”

He tried not to think about how he was trying to encourage a group of literal children to keep fighting a giant eldritch abomination, and hoped instead that the spell would somehow distribute a little of his strength and courage to them.

Somehow, though, this next round of battle was even worse than the one before.

Bill attacked even more mercilessly, now that he knew that the spirit warrior could be sort of hurt, and it was all they could do to keep him at bay.

Despite this, every time they got knocked down, the warrior got back up again.

And again.

And again.

Before long the once-pristine gray armor had torn open in places, revealing translucent skin beneath. There was no blood leaking from the wounds, but they glimmered in the dull red lighting, and as stoic as the warrior’s face continued to be, you could tell that exhaustion was settling in.

Bill’s different sets of mouths, and his black and yellow eye, were creased in smug triumph as he once again beat them back against the trees.

“FACE IT, KIDS!” he cackled-in a voice that carried, if you were looking for it, a hint of odd relief. “YOU’RE ALL OUT OF YOUR _LEAGUE_ HERE! YOU MIGHT AS WELL JUST GIVE UP AND ACCEPT DEFEAT NOW, BEFORE THIS THING TAKES WHAT’S LEFT OF YOU AND-”

“HEY! LOOK OVER HERE, UGLY!”

The demon slowly turned the top part of its body to see who had dared to address it.

He saw a group of small, puny humans standing out in the open, waving their arms and grinning at him.

Over at the house, several more of them had just finished dragging the statues of their fellow townspeople onto the porch, and to comparative safety.

Grenda, who was one of the ones in the clearing, waved and yelled again.

“YEAH, I’M TALKING TO _YOU_ , YA BIG JERK!”

“Your three-sidedness offends me!” Candy joined in. “It goes against nature!”

“AND YOU DRESS LIKE THE MONOPOLY MAN! BOO!”

“Git’em, git’em!” Tyler chanted, pumping his fists in the air.

“PUNCH HIM IN HIS STUPID EYE!” Manly Dan roared.

In the split second in which Bill was caught off guard by the blatant insolence of these tiny meat sacks who dared to insult him, trying to decide if they were enough of an annoyance for him to obliterate off the bat or just ignore them until a later period when he could torment them to his heart’s content-he made the mistake of letting himself get distracted.

It was the last mistake he would ever make.

Seconds later, he felt a sharp, ripping pain, and the eye at the front of his body got a good look at the tip of the sword being driven through the area right under it.

The warrior didn’t stop there.

They twisted the sword to the side, and pulled, tearing it straight through Bill’s side until it was free again, and began to chop and hack at him with reckless abandon, even though there was no need.

Slowly but surely, and with increasing speed, the particles of Bill’s body were breaking down into tiny golden flakes, which were being kind of absorbed into the blade.

The demon screeched, and tried to leap away, but one of his arms disintegrated, so he fell to the ground with an unceremonious _thud_.

The warrior planted their boot on top of him, and raised the sword over their head. The once-expressionless eyes glittered with collective hatred for this creature and everything he had done to them.

And Bill-he just started laughing.

A feeble, but still defiant, laugh, as his form changed, as best it was capable now, back to his familiar yellow, cartoonish shape.

And then he began to sing with what remained of his voice.

_“We’ll...meet again...don’t know where...don’t know when…”_

The blade came swooping down to meet him.

_“But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny-”_

The final blow met its mark-

  
  


-and Bill Cipher was gone.

* * *

As the last remnants of his form disappeared, mostly becoming absorbed into the spirit warrior’s blade, the world around them changed.

The fleeing henchmaniacs were yanked unceremoniously into the air, and sucked back up towards the rift, along with many other monsters, bubbles of chaos-all the horrors Bill had brought here from the Nightmare Realm.

The angry red light was rapidly replaced by warm blue skies, the green of pine trees, the golden glow of the summer sun overhead.

The waterfall, which had become a fountain of upward-flowing blood, returned to its natural state.

The sentient water tower ceased its rampaging and returned to its normal spot.

Gompers the goat sank back to his normal size, and was only a little confused that the pine tree he had been munching on was now taller than he was.

In her house, Abuelita Ramirez woke up as she fell to the floor with a thud, now that she was no longer a comfortable red armchair, and decided that now that she had her limbs back, she would go and see where her grandson had gone off to.

The stone statues of Robbie’s parents, Mr. Poolcheck, and the others returned to normal, and looked around in confusion as they tried to understand what had happened.

In the clearing, the Zodiac warrior slowly got down on one knee, resting their hands on their sword, and bowed their head, like a knight showing fealty to a king...before slowly dissipating into strands of light which flowed back towards the Mystery Shack.

* * *

And in the kitchen, ten people collapsed to the floor and didn’t get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...If it makes you feel better, this isn't quite the end. No need to get in a tizzy at me.
> 
> I hope this met with everyone's expectations; I felt like giving them a quick win would have been too easy.


	30. The world turned upside down, part 1

_ Ugh...what happened? _

Stan Pines opened his eyes and found himself looking at the ceiling of his bedroom.

Nothing exactly new about that. It was the same thing he’d done virtually every day for the last thirty years, except for when he fell asleep in the basement.

But this time he felt far more like crap than usual.

It all probably had something to do with-

Oh shoot.

The kids.

Ford.

The Zodiac thing!   
  


Stan tried and failed to sit up.

He tried again, with the same result.

It wasn’t even that he was tied down or anything; his limbs just didn’t seem to have any strength left in them to move.

All Stan had the energy to do was turn his head-

-and notice that there was a strange woman in his room.

Despite what you might think, this had never really been a common occurrence for Stan.

And even if it happened now, it  _ definitely _ wouldn’t be one this young; Stan wasn’t  _ that _ much of a creep, thank you very much.

She was about Soos’s age, with brown skin and a light brown ponytail, and a little on the chubby side but not like an unhealthy amount (not like he was exactly an expert on that, mind you). Come to think of it, maybe she was a little familiar.

“Mr. Pines?” she asked with a worried frown, scooting closer in her chair. “Are you awake?”

“Nnnng.” Stan tried to remember how to use words; idly his tongue found the gap between his teeth and probed at it, and the ensuing pain woke him up a little more. “Wh-who-?”

“I’m Melody. Soos’s girlfriend?”

...Oh yeah. That was a thing that had happened earlier this summer. Heh. He always knew the kid had it in him if he got his head out of his anime video games and actually learned how to talk to real girls.

Then he remembered why he’d been panicking earlier.

“Wh-where’s…?”

“Everyone else is in different parts of the house,” Melody told him. “They’ve all been asleep for almost two full days. You’re the first one who’s woken up, Mr. Pines.”

_ Heh. About time Ford got some sleep… _

Stan could already feel his heavy eyelids sliding shut again.

* * *

It was another day before everyone began waking up for real.

Soos was the first one to open his eyes this time-and was promptly covered in messy kisses and fussed over by his abuelita, calling him her little hero and telling him not to ever do something so foolish again. He felt like he was kinda getting mixed messages here, but she seemed to be mostly happy with him so he decided not to question it too much.

Gradually the others woke up too; however, they were all in various stages of exhaustion, and nobody was strong enough to get up and move on their own until they’d had a few good meals and gotten a little more sleep.

Even then, though, the former members of the Zodiac all needed to hold onto something while walking, and doing much of anything was a test of willpower for quite some time.

They had all also acquired a white streak in their hair.

With some people (namely Gideon and Fiddleford) it wasn’t that noticeable, for obvious reasons.

Others, however…

* * *

Robbie had wailed and whined about it for an hour until Wendy reminded him that he could always dye it black if it was such a big deal to him; fortunately that was enough to shut him up, and Tambry was nice enough to find him some dye lying in the wreckage of the mall.

“I kinda like mine,” Wendy admitted, looking at herself in the mirror and brushing the lock out of her eyes with a shaky hand. “It makes me look like Rogue from X-Men.”

Ford, who had been examining his own hair with a grimace, turned his head in surprise. “Kids are still familiar with the X-Men?”

“Uh, yeah.” Wendy reached up and parted it so it was hanging on either side of her face, before nodding to herself in approval. “I’ve seen all the movies. Granted, some of those were better than others, but-”

“There were movies?!”

She gave him a long look, and then sighed. “We got a  _ lot  _ of pop culture to catch you up on, dude.”

* * *

“This is a disaster!” Priscilla Northwest lamented as she stared at the white streak marring her daughter’s blonde locks. “It’s completely ruined your image!”

“ _ Mom _ , it’s not that bad!” Pacifica argued. Despite what she had lamented during Weirdmageddon...it honestly wasn’t that bad when you got used to it. She was surprised to find herself admitting, “I like it. It’s kinda punk.”

Both her parents gasped in horror, and she saw her father’s face starting to tighten up in indication that she was about to get one of her credit cards revoked for her insolence.

...Instead, a sudden inspiration presented itself.

“It’s like a badge of honor,” Pacifica said, folding her arms. “It shows that our family was part of the fight against Bill Cipher, and we  _ won _ . We’re  _ heroes _ who fought with the  _ right side _ .”

The reminder of how much the Northwests valued their reputation (and that this would hopefully be enough to make people forget about that  _ little  _ faux pas in which he tried to become one of Bill’s “horsemen of the apocalypse”) was enough to stop Preston in his tracks.

Pacifica smiled at him sweetly, until at last he looked away, muttering something about “at least try not to make it so visible.”

The victory was her small consolation when her father’s mistake of investing in “weirdness bonds” made them lose their house.

* * *

“...Maybe if we buy up a lot of hair dye Mom and Dad will never have to know,” Dipper said thoughtfully.

“Ooh, can I do pink and purple streaks?” Mabel asked, bouncing on her bed (with less exuberance than usual). “That would look so cool!”

“I think they’d like that even less than they would just seeing the white part.”

She pouted. “You’re no fun.”

* * *

When they weren’t looking after their heroes, everyone was hard at work repairing the damage to their town.

Much to his frustration Ford was too weak to get physically involved in rebuilding, but he and Fiddleford did help with assembling blueprints for the work crews (and it allowed him to keep an eye on his friend and make sure he didn’t secretly give too many of the new buildings the ability to turn into giant killer robots). He encouraged Fiddleford to sell some of his more ambitious inventions to the government, so the royalties could help him to improve his living arrangements, along with his wardrobe and diet and everything else about his life.

“...I’m sorry that you’ve gone through all that,” he admitted one afternoon as they worked. “And that I was such a terrible friend.”

Fiddleford looked at him sharply over the rims of his spectacles. “Stanford Pines, you were not-”

“Yes I was,” Ford insisted. “If I had taken the time to listen to you  _ just once _ , none of this would have happened.”

After a second Fiddleford’s expression lost some of its severity. “Well, mebbe some of it woulda happened any old how. Ya can’t know fer certain one way or another, not unless ya get involved with time travel shenanigans or summat.”

Ford grimaced, remembering what he’d read about Dipper and Mabel’s misadventures with time travel. “Probably for the best if I don’t try.”

“Then don’t spend a lotta time beatin’ yourself up over it either. Have ya learned your lesson?”

“...I hope so.”

“Good enough fer me.” Fiddleford beamed at him, and went back to work.

After a moment, Ford did too, with a soft smile.

* * *

Needless to say, the hospital was being worked overtime trying to take care of broken bones, incidences of being viciously mauled by otherworldly creatures, the trauma of having your molecular structure rearranged-the list went on. They had to call in doctors and nurses from other parts of Oregon to help out, and Ford was forced to use up his entire multiverse med kit to help out those with the severest injuries.

Also, despite his protests, at the first opportunity he and the kids dragged Stan in for a professional checkup.

“You’re lucky this isn’t infected,” the doctor said, examining the upper part of Stan’s mouth where his incisor had been ripped out. “Fortunately we can create an artificial one that we can insert in its place, and it will look good as new.”

Stan brightened. “Ooh, can I get a gold one?”

“NO,” said Ford sternly.

Stan gave him an indignant look. “What? It’d add ta my image!”

Ford just glared at him until he folded his arms and stared grumpily at the table.

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t care anyway.”

Things were still...a little awkward between the two of them.

They’d cleared the air a bit before they had to be part of the Zodiac, but...while they weren’t fighting or ignoring each other anymore, they were still doing a bit of an awkward dance around each other.

Neither one seemed sure how to make the first move.

Even as the town slowly rebuilt itself, and the end of summer crept steadily closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One or two more chapters to go!


	31. The world turned upside down, part 2

Mabel was having a hard time sleeping after the worst of the exhaustion from being part of the Zodiac wore off.

Of course, nobody else in the Mystery Shack-and probably the whole town-was getting a good night’s rest either, thanks to the effects of good ol’ PTSD.

Just last night Grunkle Stan had woken everyone up when he started screaming like he was being murdered, and Grunkle Ford had literally smashed his door down, ready to blow a nonexistent intruder to smithereens. Instead, it turned out that Grunkle Stan had been having a nightmare of some kind. He hadn’t told any of them what it was about, but the kids could guess that it had to do with some of the stuff Bill had done to him, so they’d just crawled into the bed and curled up on either side of him, and Ford had sat down in a chair nearby until they all fell asleep.

But on this particular night, the reason why Mabel was having trouble sleeping was because her mind was too full of thoughts.

She’d finally remembered that her and Dipper’s birthday was in three days.

At first she’d felt a small burst of delight and excitement at the reminder that they were almost thirteen-until she remembered, well, everything that had happened the last time she’d thought about their birthday.

How everything was going to change.

How her freaking out over all that change had led to her getting upset with Dipper.

How that in turn had led to-

A steadily growing knot formed in Mabel’s tummy, and she felt a wave of heat crawl up her spine.

The spacious attic suddenly felt too small, and she couldn’t breathe properly.

As quietly as she could manage, so that she wouldn’t disturb Dipper or Waddles, she crawled out of bed and crept to the door, and then tiptoed downstairs.

* * *

She’d thought about it a little bit during Weirdmageddon, but they’d had the threat of Bill to worry about, and then needed to take care of Grunkle Stan, and then she’d been overjoyed to see him and Grunkle Ford starting to make up, and that had been enough to distract her from remembering what she’d done.

But now, with the end of summer approaching, there was nothing holding it back.

Mabel didn’t really have a plan besides trying to drown the awful feeling in chocolate, if there was any available.

Instead, as she began frantically rummaging around in the fridge, she suddenly heard a familiar deep voice speak her name, and spun around to see Grunkle Ford standing in the doorway.

The sick feeling in her tummy rose with a vengeance, and this time it was accompanied by a tight  _ squeezing  _ sensation in her throat. Thanks to her, the terrible thing he’d been trying to stop from happening had happened, and Grunkle Stan had paid for it-

“Mabel, what’s the matter?!” Grunkle Ford slowly stepped into the kitchen, kneeling down in front of her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Did you have a nightmare?”

She didn’t want to tell him. More than anything she wanted to lie and say that was all it was, just a nightmare, and maybe he’d get her some warm milk or something and then walk her back upstairs to bed and that would be the end of it.

...Except it wouldn’t, not really.

And there had been enough lies and secrets in their family for one lifetime.

So what came out instead, in a strangled whisper, was, “I gave him the rift.”

Grunkle Ford froze, and his touch immediately left her shoulder.

Mabel couldn’t look him in the eyes; she just stared at the front of the flannel pajama shirt that Stan had dug out of the closet for him, and went on hoarsely, “I-he was possessing Blendin, and he promised he’d make summer last as long as I wanted if I got it for him, so-so I wouldn’t have to watch everything change just yet. I didn’t  _ know _ he was Bill, but I gave it to him and then he smashed it and then Weirdmageddon happened  _ and I was so happy staying in my stupid bubble that I didn’t care about what was happening to anyone else I ruined everything!!!! _ ”

By the end she was wailing, and had backed up until she was pressed against the fridge, pulling the collar of her pajama shirt up so she could start hiding her face in it as the closest thing she had right now to Sweater Town.

She knew how Grunkle Ford responded to people making mistakes and wrecking his stuff, he was never ever ever going to forgive her for this, and Dipper probably wouldn’t either if he told him, not that she deserved it because she was horrible and selfish and any second her grunkle would start-

-hugging her?

* * *

In one swift motion Grunkle Ford had suddenly gathered her into his arms, squeezing her really tight and rubbing her back in little circles with one hand.

Mabel was confused...but she made it a point to never turn down a free hug, so she burrowed into his touch, even as she felt herself heaving with sobs and getting tears and snot all over his shirt.

“Ssh…” Ford soothed, and scooted until he was sitting cross-legged and she was curled up in his lap, “take a deep breath, Mabel.”

She obeyed as best she could.

Grunkle Ford didn’t try to rush her or show any sign of impatience; he just waited until she was reduced to soft, miserable sniffles, and then gently pushed her back and lifted her chin.

“Remember earlier, when you told me that it wasn’t my fault Bill tricked and manipulated me?”

Mabel nodded hesitantly.

“Don’t you think the same rule applies to you?”

She sniffled. “But if I hadn’t-”

“If I had trusted you enough to tell you about the rift, instead of keeping it a secret from everyone but Dipper, then you would have known better. You made a mistake, yes, but you had no idea what kind of consequences it would have. And it was not your fault that Bill is- _ was _ a manipulative monster.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Do you understand?”

After a second Mabel nodded.

Grunkle Ford wrapped his arm around her again, and one of his big hands rubbed her shoulder.

Another nudge of guilty conscience prompted Mabel to whisper, “I’m sorry I put you in the stocks- _ pillory _ . And...for everything I said to you in Mabeland. And for trying to banish you.”

His chest rumbled with soft laughter. “It’s not often that you hear an apology for something like that.”

Despite herself, Mabel couldn’t help giggling along.

Then Grunkle Ford said, more seriously, “Thank you for telling me what happened, Mabel. And for apologizing. I’m sorry for not putting more trust in you, so perhaps we could have prevented it.” He let out a small sigh. “...I’ve learned the hard way that my constant refusal to put more trust in other people leads to ever more climactic disasters.”

Mabel wrapped her arms around him as far as she could reach. “Guess we all gotta learn how to stop being stupid.”

Grunkle Ford laughed again.

* * *

After a second, Mabel swallowed and whispered, “...If Dipper decides to stay with you...make sure he’s happy here. Cuz he’s gonna bleed himself dry to please you if you let him, and that’s not good for him. Make sure he takes care of himself, and does stuff cuz he wants to, not just cuz he wants to impress you. Okay?”

There was a long pause, before Ford answered, in a very subdued voice, “...Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought it was about time for some Mabel-and-Ford bonding, and some Mabel-apologizing.


	32. The world turned upside down, part 3

Even though Grunkle Ford (aka Mr. Grudgemental himself) had forgiven her, Mabel wasn’t sure the rest of her family would be as willing to do so. But she knew it would be worse to not tell them, so the next morning at breakfast she swallowed down her fear and got it over with.

Soos and his grandma were there too, the latter having basically moved in to help out as everyone was regaining their strength, but that was okay because as far as she was concerned they were family too.

Nobody spoke while she explained what happened, staring down at her plate; eventually she finished off with, “...I understand if you’re disappointed in me. I know I should’ve known better.” And she tightened her fingers around her fork, awaiting their verdict.

After a second or two, Grunkle Stan was the first to speak, in a worryingly solemn tone.

“Wish you woulda told us sooner, pumpkin.”

Mabel felt her eyes starting to sting, and a new chorus of sobs starting to rise in her chest-

“If ya had, I woulda given the yellow [CENSORED] a couple more punches to the eye before we finished him off.”

Mabel jerked her head up in shock-and not just because he’d used that kind of language openly in front of her and Dipper.

Grunkle Stan was smiling at her. It was a sad smile, but there was no anger or disappointment. And when she looked at the others, nobody else seemed to be judging or blaming her either. Just sadness and sympathy.

Dipper scooted his chair over until he was right at her side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders; immediately she glomped onto him in relief, and had her second meltdown in under 24 hours.

* * *

Later that afternoon the kids were out in the front yard, helping clean up the mess around the Shack, since they at least had enough strength now to do that. Each of them was equipped with gloves, a bucket and a sharp stick, and they had been given strict warning by both their grunkles not to go too far away in case any of the creatures from the Nightmare Realm had somehow managed not to get sucked back into the rift.

And as they worked, getting rid of pieces of ripped-up cardboard and oversized tree branches, Dipper unexpectedly jabbed his stick through a familiar, brightly crayoned piece of paper decorated with the reminder that the end of this week was his and Mabel’s birthday.

For a minute he stared at the drawing of him and his sister exploding out of a cake, rubbing the corner with his thumb as numerous thoughts chased each other through his head.

Then, with a resolute sigh, he decided it would probably be best to get this over with before something else happened.

He set aside his tools, tenderly folded the flyer before stuffing it into his vest pocket, and marched back into the house to find Ford.

His grunkle turned out to be (where else?) down in the basement, next to the shattered remains of the portal. He was, in fact, sitting on part of it, staring with a somewhat melancholy expression at a piece of old, slightly torn-up paper in his hand. At some point he had managed to reclaim his trenchcoat, and at the sound of someone coming down the stairs he quickly shoved the paper into the inside pocket and straightened up. His eyebrows went up when he saw who it was.

“Are you finished already? Or did you maybe need to rest, or-”

“Grunkle Ford (the first time he’d ever addressed him with that term, instead of ‘Great Uncle’), I don’t think I’m ready to live in Gravity Falls full-time.”

Whatever Grunkle Ford had been expecting him to say, it evidently wasn’t that. He froze, blinking owlishly, and staring at Dipper in bewilderment.

Dipper squared his shoulders (as much as the skinny little things were capable of being squared), and took a deep breath.

“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. And I  _ love _ it here. This summer has been the most magical experience of my life-even with all the times we nearly got killed, or at least dismembered.” He laughed weakly, before becoming serious again. “...But I don’t love it enough to want to spend all my time here...if it would mean not getting to grow up with Mabel.”

Dipper looked down self-consciously, digging his shoe into the floor and trying to gather his thoughts in as mature a fashion as possible so Ford would understand. “I mean-I get we’re not necessarily gonna stay together forever, and like you said, it’d probably be good for us to grow as individual people. But...I’m not ready for that  _ big  _ a step yet. I don’t wanna spend all my time away from my parents and my sister-not even if it means getting to spend it with you instead.”

He was mortified to feel himself blushing, and tried to will himself to stop. Based on how his face became even hotter, his efforts were not successful.

Part of him wanted to say that he’d also realized he was a little afraid of turning out the same way Ford had if he stayed with him full-time-i.e. deciding he could only rely on himself and as a result pushing away his family-but he dismissed that as too harsh.

“...So, what I guess I’m trying to say is...couldn’t it just be a summer-based apprenticeship instead? Since Mabel and I are both gonna come back here anyway? I know that’s not the same as what you wanted, and I’m sorry if you’d have to completely rearrange your schedule, or if it’s just not convenient for you, but-”

Dipper ran out of words, and just stood there, hugging his shoulders.

After a few seconds of silence, he heard the tread of heavy footsteps approaching; then Ford knelt down in front of him, putting a large hand on his shoulder.

“...You think your parents will allow you to come back here, after all the times you were nearly killed or dismembered?”

Dipper glanced up at his uncle. “...I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Ford’s mouth twitched for a few seconds-before he let out into a peal of deep, warm laughter.

Dipper was very confused, but soon enough he joined in.

After a moment Ford managed to somewhat gain control over himself, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, and looked at his nephew more seriously. “I think that’s a splendid idea, Dipper.”

He felt his knees go a little weak with relief, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. “...Maybe we can talk about doing it full time when I’ve graduated high school or something?” he offered, just in case there was some part of Ford that was hurt about losing his apprentice.

“We’ll see.” Ford squeezed his shoulder gently, and then pulled himself to his feet and adjusted his coat. “For now, my boy, I actually need to go take care of something important.”

“Huh? What?”

But Ford was already striding for the stairs, and he was forced to jog to keep up.

* * *

Once they reached the ground floor, Ford pushed open the vending machine door, and then accosted Soos and Melody, who were rearranging inventory (the whole town was closed to tourists while things were brought back under control, but once it was open again they were sure it would be swamped with curious customers).

“Where’s Stanley?”

“Uh, last I saw him he was headin’ for his room,” Soos said.

“Thank you.” Without further ado Ford strode out and headed for the upstairs. To his relief, Dipper seemed to understand that this would be a very private conversation, and headed back outside-perhaps to tell his sister the good news. Ford inadvertently felt his mouth curling upwards a little bit, and a small rush of excitement in his stomach.

Dipper’s gentle half-refusal of his offer had been the final tie keeping him trapped in indecision-and now it had been severed altogether. Now-maybe, if he was lucky, and if Stanley could possibly be persuaded to give him another chance...things could change for the better.

He barely took the time to knock on Stan’s door before opening it-this was no time for proper etiquette, and it barely crossed his mind that he might walk in to find his twin in an awkward position or changing or something.

What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was to find Stan with an open suitcase on his bed, and haphazardly throwing items into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied.  
> There's gonna be one or two more chapters.  
> What can I say, this story just keeps growing the more I feed it.
> 
> ...And I'm sure this is the chapter in which several of you are going to get very mad at me for not making these two idiots communicate with each other properly even after Weirdmageddon's over.  
> But come on, I'm just being true to life, people! What do you want from me?


	33. The world turned upside down, part 4

“What are you doing?!”

The demand came bursting out of Ford’s mouth without preamble.

Stan froze, the disassembled pieces of a shotgun in his hands, and blinked a couple of times, before pointedly tossing them into the suitcase, which already contained a hotchpotch supply of shirts, brass knuckles, and several large wads of cash.

Ford realized what he was trying to indicate, and made an irritated sound.

“ _ Why _ are you packing-!”

A second later he realized what the obvious answer was, and he groaned into his hand.

Stan looked even more confused, and began balling up a Hawaiian shirt of unbelievable tackiness, clearly about to throw it into the suitcase as well.

“Figured I should get a head start on it,” he muttered. “Since the kids are goin’ home soon, and you said-”

_ “I know what I said!” _

Stan took an alarmed step backwards, nearly fumbling the shirt out of his hands.

_ Get a grip _ , Ford scolded internally,  _ you’re not explaining yourself clearly _ .

Even so, he had to take a moment to hold the bridge of his nose and inhale and exhale a couple of times while he figured out what he wanted to say.

“Stanley,” he said at last, adjusting his glasses, “I-when I said all that, about wanting my house back...at the time I was trying to reestablish a level of normalcy that in hindsight was not reasonable to expect, or attempt to implement. Your Mystery Shack has become a very well-established source of this town’s income, from what I understand, and I doubt the people living here would appreciate it being taken away, regardless of what rights I might claim to the property. And I was-” he didn’t want to admit it, but he forced himself to swallow his pride and do so anyway- “I was lashing out, and being cruel to you.”

Stan looked like he was thinking, ‘That’s nothing new,’ but mercifully refrained from saying it aloud.

“I just-I didn’t want you to actually  _ leave _ !” Or rather, at the time that he’d said all that it had not yet sunk in that Stan would have nowhere else to go and he would be taking away his only source of income at the same time, ergo doing the same thing as their father but worse. Nor had it sunk in until later that despite what he told himself, he  _ didn’t _ want to go back to being alone in this big empty house, part of which had led him to make that ill-advised offer to Dipper. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure  _ what _ he’d actually wanted, but it was all enough to make him very annoyed with his past self.

Ford looked at his twin, a little part of him desperately hoping that he would instinctively understand what he was trying to ask the way he always used to when they were young.

Instead Stan frowned and asked suspiciously, “...So what’s your point?”

“My point is I’ve been looking at boats!”

Stan stared at him like he was still waiting for him to start speaking English.

_...This would be coming out far more eloquently if I’d had more time to rehearse. _

“...Wendy has been trying to teach me how to use the Internet, and I’ve managed to find places online that sell used sailboats. I’ve been comparing prices, because-” Ford took a step further into the room- “even though Weirdmageddon has been contained, I’ve been picking up signs of supernatural activity in other parts of the world. Particularly in certain areas of the Arctic Ocean. And-and I want to go investigate it…” he was only a few feet away from Stan, “but I think I might be too old to go alone.”

He looked at Stan for a reaction; all he got was another unreadable expression.

Ford’s heart sank, but he decided to finish spelling it out for him. He reached into his inner pocket, and pulled out the old photo that he’d kept all these years.

“I don’t want it to be just anybody, Stanley. I want it to be you. So-will you give me a second chance?”

* * *

Stan stared at the photo. Then he looked back up at Ford. Then he slowly let the shirt slip through his fingers to the floor, and reached one hand over and gave his other hand a slow, deliberate pinch.

He waited for a second after doing so, frowning; then, when evidently nothing happened, he reached out and pinched Ford’s hand instead.

“Ow! What are you doing?!” Ford stumbled back.

“Trying to wake up,” Stan said in a tone like he thought this should be obvious.

“You’re not asleep,” Ford insisted as clarity asserted itself. “I’m genuinely asking-”

But Stan was shaking his head stubbornly, staggering back a little. “Nuh-uh. It-it can’t be. You’re-any second I’m gonna wake up, or you’re gonna let the other shoe drop and tell me what ya  _ really _ want, or it’ll turn out Bill somehow got in my head after all, or-”

His previous calm air had started to crack; his voice was wobbling, and his jaw was clenching fiercely, and Ford could hear his breath coming in harsher exhales as he began pinching himself again-

Ford grabbed his brother’s shoulders firmly. “ _ Stanley _ . Look at me. You’re awake. This is real. I promise.”

Stan stared at him, apparently unaware that he was drawing blood from how hard his newly regrown teeth were biting down on his lower lip.

“But-you don’t-”

“I know I’ve hurt you, and you’re scared that I’m going to hurt you again.” Ford squeezed his shoulders. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel that way, and that everything’s become so messed up between us. But I want to try again. Please.”

_ Please don’t let it be too late. _

Stan blinked rapidly, and something warm and damp trickled down his cheek, landing on the back of Ford’s hand.

Ford slowly curled his arms around his brother’s back, and tugged, until he felt him step closer, and two thick arms tentatively wrap around his middle.

“...Ya think we’ll find treasure? And babes?” Stan asked his shoulder.

Ford let out a somewhat damp laugh. “Well, it’s the middle of the Arctic Ocean, so unless you want to try to kiss a leopard seal or something I wouldn’t count too much on the latter.”

“Eh, might be better than some o’ my past relationships.” Stan’s laugh wasn’t too dry itself.

“Ugh, don’t be disgusting!” He reached up and lightly cuffed the back of Stan’s head, before burying his hand in his hair.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Poindexter.” His hold tightened a little, as his shoulders shuddered and trembled.

* * *

By this point it wasn’t clear how much emotion was being expressed by laughing, and how much by crying.

But it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was, as cheesy as it sounds, that they both felt whole again. Or at least on the road to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I am not encouraging or implying bestiality in any way, shape or form.  
> Stan's just kidding.  
> Probably.


	34. Perfect endings, perfect beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEE, darylstorey made fanart for this story!  
> https://darylstorey.tumblr.com/post/640410315915460608/the-demon-moved-the-puppets-mouth-and-an?is_liked_post=1

When Dipper told Mabel that he would be coming back home with her, and would talk to Ford about a full-time apprenticeship when he was older, he only had a second to brace himself before he was tackled to the ground and his ears accosted by incoherent joyful squealing.

He just grinned and patted his sister’s back until she calmed down enough to release him.

When she did, her jubilation faded a little bit, replaced by worry.

“...You’re not giving it up just cuz of what I said, are you?”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “No, no, I promise! I really do wanna watch you try to make it through your awkward teenage years.”

Mabel snorted and shoved him. “Oh, like you’re gonna have it any easier!”

“Please, Mabel, I’ve been told that I’m  _ very _ mature for my age.” Unfortunately, his voice chose to make a very impressive crack halfway through the sentence, undermining the authenticity of the statement. Both of them were reduced to hopeless giggles for a few minutes.

Eventually Dipper rubbed his eyes on his arm, and took a few deep breaths as he went to sit down on the porch’s steps; Mabel followed suit.

“It’s just…” he hesitated, “...we don’t have all the same problems as Stan and Ford did growing up, thankfully. For one thing, I like to think Mom and Dad are way better people than theirs were.”

Mabel stuck out her tongue. “If we ever see Blendin again, I’m gonna borrow his time tape so I can go back and punch their dad in his stupid face.”

Dipper refrained from pointing out that the time tape didn’t move in space as well as time, so she would have to be in New Jersey before she could do that. He just smiled a little bit, before going on, “And I know after high school, you’ll probably get into some really great art school in New York or something. Everyone in our family believes in you and knows that you’ve got a bright future ahead of you, just as much as I hopefully do.”

Mabel visibly blossomed at his praise.

“And even if we’re not always living in the same state, I’d still want to stay in contact with you. Obviously I would; you’re my best friend.”

Dipper felt a little embarrassed at being this open about his affection, but kept going resolutely.

“...But I’m not ready for that big a step yet. I jumped into saying yes to the apprenticeship too fast, without thinking about what it would all mean first.”

“Also…” he looked down at his shoes self-consciously, “...Ford kind of made me realize, during Weirdmageddon, that as great as he is...he still has a lot of issues to work out with Grunkle Stan, and he probably wouldn’t if he had me around hanging on his every word all the time.”

Mabel chewed thoughtfully on a strand of hair for a moment, wearing an expression of uncharacteristic solemnity; then she scooted close enough to wrap her arm around his shoulders.

“...Thanks, bro-bro,” she whispered. Then she shivered. “Ugh, is this what becoming mature feels like? Having to have serious conversations like this all the time?”

Dipper shuddered in identical fake horror. “I hope not. Ugh, we better go binge a couple episodes of Duck-tective before we start wanting to do taxes and watch political debates!”

Mabel giggled, and hurriedly got to her feet. “Race you inside!”

“Hey, no fair!” Dipper chased after her as fast as he could.

* * *

Once they’d calmed down a bit, Stan and Ford ended up just sitting side by side on the bed, shoulders pressed together in a very old, familiar fashion, and just...talked.

About everything and nothing; they just said whatever came into their heads, far into the afternoon and all the way to early evening.

All the things they’d wanted to say to each other ever since Ford came back and hadn’t let themselves because of pride and hurt and stubbornness and a lot of other stupid reasons.

Lots of apologies.

Lots of stories.

Ford pulled up a map of the world on one of his pieces of otherworldly technology, and pointed out all the anomalous places he wanted to visit; this obviously included the Bermuda Triangle, whenever they got finished investigating the Arctic, and he had a few crazy theories about what might be the cause of the weirdness there based on some of his experiences in other parts of the multiverse.

Stan bet a hundred bucks on his favorite theory being the correct one, despite Ford’s protest that he didn’t really have money from this dimension anymore.

(“Then you better hope that one of the other theories is right, shouldn’t you?”

Ford punched him lightly in the arm.)

When they ran out of words for the time being, they just leaned against each other, enjoying the silence that wasn’t hostile or awkward.

Stan was actually on the verge of falling asleep when Ford said in alarm, “I just remembered! The childrens’ birthday is this weekend!”

Stan forced his eyes open sleepily. “Yup. Good ol’ August 31st.”

“We should do something for them!” Ford insisted, digging his fingers through his floof. “We-I have so many missed birthdays to catch up on-”

Stan held up a calming hand. “Relax, Poindexter. I got it taken care of.”

“What are you talking about?”

“...Well…”

* * *

**_The day before_ **

Stan looked with somewhat bewildered eyes at the small man with the long eyelashes who’d come to visit him. “...There somethin’ I can do for you, Tyler?”

“I came to ask  _ you _ that, Mr. Pines! You and your family and friends are our heroes!” Mayor Cutebiker said in a voice that was far too chirpy for this hour of the morning, standing in the doorway of Stan’s office with his hands clasped together under his chin. “I was just wondering if there was anything our town can do to repay you for your services?”

A million possibilities flashed through Stan’s mind...before he shrugged.

“Eh, I think we’re getting on okay. Just...needa figure out what I’m gonna do for my niece and nephew before they gotta head back ta Piedmont. Seein’ as their last day in Gravity Falls’s their birthday and all.”

Tyler let out a delighted gasp. “That’s perfect!”

* * *

Ford gave Stan an askance look.

“You tricked the mayor into organizing a party for Dipper and Mabel’s birthday?”

“Hey, I never  _ said  _ he had to!” Stan smiled his “innocent” smile. “I just happened ta mention that two of the town’s heroes who helped prevent the apocalypse were havin’ a birthday this weekend, and he practically  _ begged _ me ta let him organize it. Besides, maybe it’ll be good for morale or whatever. Pretty sure this whole Weirdmageddon thing freaked everyone out more than a little, and it’s hard ta sell merchandise to rubes who’re too traumatized to appreciate it. A party’s the perfect thing for-for helping people feel better and stuff.”

Ford wasn’t fooled, and Stan knew that he wasn’t. But he just let his head drop back onto Ford’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, Ford followed suit.

Neither of them even woke up when Dipper and Mabel draped a blanket over them and took a couple dozen photos.

* * *

The morning of their thirteenth birthday, the kids barely had time to get up and dressed before there was a sudden knock at the door, and Grunkles Stan and Ford came bustling in with a couple of blindfolds in his hand.

“You two gotta put these on before we let ya go downstairs.”

Mabel brightened. “Ooh, are you taking us fishing again to celebrate our birthday?”

Stan gave her a stern look. “Sorry, no spoilers!”

He waited until they’d both tied the blindfolds firmly over their eyes, with no room to peek, and then Dipper felt one of his grunkle’s hands wrap around his and lead him out of the room.

“Careful, we’re at the stairs,” Stan warned, and they slowly made their way down, careful not to trip over them.

As they reached the ground floor, Dipper thought he could hear whispering noises, and the sounds of feet rustling, but he wasn’t given much time to dwell on it before he was being herded through the front door.

“Okay, open ‘em up!”

Dipper pulled down his blindfold-and was greeted with an enthusiastic “SURPRISE!!!!” from countless voices.

What seemed like the entire town was gathered in the front yard of the Mystery Shack, under an enormous banner with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPER & MABEL PINES” on it in brightly colored letters.

At some point-maybe in the middle of the night? How the heck had he and Mabel not been woken up?-McGucket’s robot had been set up so that its tentacles were draped around the clearing like a huge metal canopy. Each one was decorated with streamers and lights, and in the middle of everything was a table overladen with food-including a birthday cake with a candle shaped like the number 13.

The children just stood and gaped for a second, trying to register what they were seeing.

Finally Mabel asked in amazement, “...You got the whole town to get together just to celebrate our birthday?”

Stan made a gruff sound. “Pfft, I didn’t get them to do nuthin’. It was the mayor’s idea.” He didn’t notice the way Ford, who was standing behind him, rolled his eyes. “Guess you’re kinda local celebrities now.”

“Of course, we’re also doing this to celebrate  _ all _ our town heroes!” Tyler said, gesturing to the other people who had participated in creating the spirit warrior: Wendy, leaning against one of the tentacles with a laid-back smile; McGucket, tinkering with some wiring until Tate elbowed him so he would look up and wave at everyone; Pacifica, holding a pair of wrapped presents in her arms and looking a little self-conscious about it; Robbie, who had ultimately dyed his white streak red, making his hair look kind of like Tambry’s; Soos, beaming like the giant god of happiness he was; Gideon, still in his famous blue suit but not actively trying to get in the spotlight for once; and finally back to the Pines family. “Everyone owes you a debt of gratitude, even if not all of us completely understand what happened! But never mind all that-we were wondering if you kids would like to git-git some birthday cake for breakfast!”

Dipper and Mabel headed for the table, and let the celebration begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can all guess the rest: Soos is named the new Mr. Mystery, after Stan declares his and Ford's plans to go away for a while; gifts are given, fun is had.  
> And eventually, tearful and gruff goodbyes are exchanged, before children get on the bus to take them back home.  
> Some differences from the events in Dimenson 46'/, but ultimately the heroes have still triumphed, and the Pines family has been once again made whole.
> 
> I hope all my faithful readers enjoyed this venture into how Weirdmageddon could have gone, and that it ended on a satisfactory note. I had a lot of fun writing it.  
> Ciao for now (hey, I rhymed!).


End file.
